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THE  BALANCE 


BOOKS  BY  WILLIAM  DANA  ORCUTT 

NOVELS 
The  Spell 
The  Moth 
The  Lever 
The  Balance 
The    Bachelors 
rorert  cavelier 
The  Flower  of  Destiny 


OTHER  VOLUMES 

Good  Old  Dorchester 
The  Princess  Kallisto 
The  Writer's  Desk  Book 
The  Author's  Desk  Book 
The  Madonna  of  Sacrifice 
Burrows  of  Michigan  (2  vols.) 


THE  BALANCE 


A  NOVEL  OF  TODAY 


BY 

WILLIAM  DANA  ORCUTT 


'  Somewhere  between  conflicting 
elements  there  is  always  a 

BALANCE  " 


NEW  YORK 

FREDERICK  A.  STOKES  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


copyright,  igaa,  by 

FREDERICK  A.  STOKES  COMPANY 

All  rights   reserved,   including   that 
of  translation  into  foreign  languages 


PRINTED  IN  THE  UNITED  STATES  OF  AMERICA 


To  My  Sons 

REGINALD  WILSON  ORCUTT 

PHILIP  DANA  ORCUTT 

IN  PRIDE  AND  CONFIDENCE 


THE  BALANCE 


PEOPLE  OF  THE  STORY 

IN  THE  ORDER  OF  THEIR  APPEARANCE 

LOLA  STEWART,  daughter  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  William  Stewart,  returned 

from  war  work  in  France. 
RICHARD  NORTON,  son  of  James  Norton,  a  veteran  of  the  World 

War. 
OLGA  MIROVICH,  a  worker  in  the  factory. 

JAMES  NORTON,  the  head  of  the  Norton  Manufacturing  Company. 
HENRY  CROSS  the  leading  citizen  of  Norcross  before  the  coming   of 

the  Norton   Manufacturing   Company. 
MARTHA  CROSS,  his  wife. 
SARAH  CROSS,  his  sister. 

BARRY  O'CAROLAN,  a  one-legged  ex-service  man.     ProtSgS  of  Lola's. 
WILLIAM  STEWART,  a  wealthy  resident  of  Norcross,  and  a  director 

in  the  Norton  Manufacturing  Company. 
MRS.  WILLIAM  STEWART,  his  wife. 
WILLIAM  TREADWAY,  James  Norton's  private  secretary. 
HANNAH,   an  elderly  dependent  in  the  Norton  household. 
TONY  LEMHOLTZ,  a  worker  in  the  factory  and  radical  labor  leader. 
JOHN  SIBLEY,  a  worker  in  the  factory  and  veteran  of  the  World  War. 
ALEC  STERLING,   the  superintendent  of  the  Norton  Manufacturing 

Company. 
DR.  ALLEN  THURBER,  an  adopted  citizen  of  Norcross. 

PLACE:    Norcross,  a  Massachusetts  manufacturing  town. 
PERIOD:    July,  1920  —  March,  1921. 


[2] 


THE  BALANCE 


CHAPTER     I 


OH,  DICK,  it  has  been  lonesome  waiting  for  you !" 
Richard  Norton  and  Lola  Stewart  were  to- 
gether in  the  Italian  pergola  in  the  garden, 
whose  luxurious  bloom  added  beauty  even  as  its  for- 
mality gave  dignity  to  the  famous  Stewart  estate  in 
Norcross.  Below  them  were  masses  of  Oriental  lark- 
spur, the  tall,  closely-set  spikes  rising  majestically 
above  the  graceful  foliage  in  its  full  July  splendor. 
Nearby  were  heavy  clusters  of  Madonna  lilies,  the  pur- 
ity of  their  whiteness  contrasting  sharply  with  the  vary- 
ing shades  of  blue  in  the  neighboring  larkspur. 

Three  years  before,  had  Lola  spoken  these  words, 
Richard  would  have  had  her  in  his  arms,  covering  her 
lips  with  kisses.  Today  he  felt  instinctively  that  such 
an  act  would  be  taking  unwarranted  liberty.  Yet  she 
was  the  same  Lola  and  he  the  same  Richard!  The 
youthful  impulsiveness  of  those  earlier  days  had  dis- 
appeared, and  each  now  felt  a  sense  of  repression  as 
inexplicable  as  it  was  uncomfortable.    She  was  changed, 

[3] 


THE    BALANCE 


but  to  him  still  adorable;  to  her  he  represented  the 
ideal  of  manhood,  .  .  yet  they  seemed  to  meet  as  friends 
rather  than  as  lovers,  each  unconsciously  feeling  the 
necessity  of  learning  how  to  express  that  which  before 
had  been  instinctive. 

"Curious,"  Richard  commented;  "but  I  always 
dreamed  of  you  in  this  frame,  .  .  always  here  in  this 
garden ;  and  the  perfume  of  the  roses  in  Germany  made 
me  frantic  to  get  home  to  you." 

"The  roses  were  in  full  bloom  when  you  .  .  .  asked 
me  to  marry  you,"  she  reminded  him  quietly. 

"  'Whosoever  enters  here  let  him  beware,  for  he  shall 
nevermore  escape  or  be  free  from  my  spell',"  Richard 
quoted  from  the  warning  carved  in  stone  at  the  en- 
trance to  the  garden.  "I  have  never  been  free  from  the 
spell,  dear;  the  season  made  no  difference.  Roses  al- 
ways meant  Lola  to  me,  and  to  think  of  you  was  to 
inhale  again  the  wonderful  fragrance  which  comes  to 
us  now  as  it  did  then." 

The  girl's  hand  slipped  shyly  into  his  and  he  pressed 
it  tenderly. 

"The  fragrance  is  almost  the  only  thing  that  has 
remained  the  same,"  he  added,  with  a  touch  of  bitter- 
ness.    "Think  what  has  happened  since!" 

"No,  no,  dear,"  she  cried  impulsively;  "we  must  try 
to  forget.  We  have  been  robbed  of  three  years  of  our 
life  together.    Now  we  must  make  up  for  it." 

II 

The  pergola  had  been  their  favorite  trysting  place, 
for  flowers  are  ever  confidants  of  lovers ;  but  this  was 

[4] 


THE    BALANCE 


the  first  July  profusion  Lola  and  Richard  had  enjoyed 
together  since  their  greatest  and  most  momentous  cir- 
cle had  been  completed,  and  they  had  returned  to  the 
same  point  whence  they  had  set  out.  Life,  after  all, 
is  but  a  succession  of  such  circles. 

"How  wonderful  to  be  here  again!"  the  traveler  ex- 
claims, believing  that  his  pleasure  comes  from  revisiting 
familiar  scenes  or  greeting  again  familiar  faces.  It  is 
all  part  of  the  sheer  joy  of  completing  another  circle! 
Day  by  day  old  circles  become  memories  and  new  ones 
begin,  until  that  time  comes  when  each  of  us  awaits  in 
contemplation  the  completion  of  the  last  and  greatest 
of  them  all. 

Richard's  circle  had  carried  him  through  the  inferno 
of  the  Marne-Aisne  offensive  and  the  St.  Mihiel  attack, 
being  temporarily  broken  by  a  period  in  the  Base  Hos- 
pital at  Toul  as  a  result  of  a  bullet  through  his  lung, 
but  continued  when  he  was  assigned  to  the  Army  of 
Occupation  and  stationed  at  Coblentz  for  months  after 
the  armistice  had  ended  actual  hostilities.  Lola's  circle 
had  been  smaller,  but  its  curve  also  crossed  the  seas, 
and  before  completing  its  arc  it  merged  her  individuality 
into  the  composite  Red  Cross  nurse  in  hospital  service. 
Thus,  for  a  time,  the  symbolic  veil  concealed  the  mass 
of  wonderful  chestnut  hair  that  was  her  birthright; 
and  the  uniform,  sacred  in  the  eyes  of  every  soldier,  dur- 
ing this  same  period  robbed  a  charming  personality  of 
its  identity. 

July  was  a  month  of  memories  for  the  pergola.  Here 
Richard  had  told  Lola  that  he  was  among  those  for- 
tunate enough  to  be  ordered  overseas,  and  this  message 

[5] 


THE    BALANCE 


brought  to  them  a  realization  that  they  were  no  longer 
merely  friends  but  lovers.  Here,  protected  from  curi- 
ous eyes  by  the  twining  honeysuckle,  their  lips  first 
met,  sealing  the  confession  which  was  to  merge  their 
lives  in  one.  The  following  July  found  the  pergola 
deserted,  with  the  honeysuckle  in  luxurious  but  riotous 
disorder;  for  Richard  was  in  action  at  St.  Mihiel  and 
Lola  on  duty  at  her  hospital.  Again  the  July  flowers 
bloomed,  but  their  fragrance  meant  little  to  Lola,  now 
turned  by  war  experience  from  girlhood  into  compre- 
hending womanhood,  sitting  there  alone,  longing  with 
anticipation  mingled  with  apprehension  for  her  lover's 
return. 

Now  they  were  together  again.  She  had  been 
home  over  a  year  and  he  for  six  months.  They  had 
compared  their  experiences,  regretting  that  at  some 
point  over  there  the  circles  had  not  touched.  They 
had  tried  to  forget  what  they  had  seen  and  to  become 
again  a  part  of  the  life  they  had  lived  before,  which  on 
its  surface  appeared  to  be  going  on  as  if  the  war  had 
been  only  a  hideous  nightmare.  The  pure  white  lilies 
in  the  garden  were  not  stained  with  blood  as  had  been 
the  lilies  in  France !  The  larkspur  reflected  the  colors 
of  the  cerulescent  sky  unclouded  by  smoke  from  bursting 
shells.  But  the  lilies  and  the  larkspur  had  their  own 
circles  to  complete,  and  fulfilled  their  function  when  by 
their  beauty  they  served  to  take  one's  thoughts  away 
from  the  horrors  of  battle.  Yet  neither  the  lilies  nor 
the  larkspur  would  have  asked  us  to  forget  that  the 
horrors  had  been.  What  of  the  people  in  the  streets 
and  in  the  counting-houses  and  in  the  homes,  untouched 

[6] 


THE    BALANCE 


by  the  toll  of  war?    Had  they  the  right  to  forget  so 
soon? 

Ill 

"The  garden  hasn't  changed  a  bit,"  Richard  con- 
tinued, as  they  looked  down  over  the  riot  of  gorgeous 
color.  "I  used  to  wonder  if  I  should  ever  again  see 
it  in  its  prime." 

With  an  effort  Lola  threw  off  the  mood  which  had 
sobered  her,  and  turned  to  him  with  a  smile  so  forced 
that  he  felt  the  effort  it  cost  her.  Her  face  was  far  too 
mature  for  a  girl  of  her  age,  and  this  phase  was  accen- 
tuated by  her  present  attitude.  The  color  he  remem- 
bered in  her  cheeks  when  he  kissed  her  good-bye  so  long 
ago  had  vanished.  The  light  which  shone  through 
the  tears  glistening  in  her  eyes  as  she  bravely  wished 
him  a  safe  return  had  disappeared.  With  a  spirit  like 
hers  Richard  had  not  been  surprised  when  he  heard  that 
she  had  joined  the  ministering  army,  but  even  with  his 
knowledge  of  what  she  endured  he  had  never  imagined 
that  so  great  a  change  could  be  wrought. 

He  recognized  how  much  had  come  to  her  in  com- 
pensation. The  quiet  maturity  which  replaced  the 
girlish  enthusiasm  gave  character  to  her  face  and  poise 
to  her  bearing  which  in  itself  was  beautiful;  her  all- 
embracing  sense  of  responsibility  expressed  a  self- 
effacement  and  an  unselfishness  which  made  her  pres- 
ence inspiring  and  ineffably  sweet.  Yet  the  changes, 
whatever  they  were,  produced  an  invisible  barrier  in- 
capable of  analysis,  which  had  not  before  existed. 

"I  never  meant  to  let  you  catch  me  in  one  of  my 
[7] 


THE    BALANCE 


doldrum  moods,"  the  girl  declared  as  she  regained  con- 
trol of  herself.  "It  is  so  wonderful  to  be  together  again, 
to  be  able  to  think  of  ourselves  without  feeling  that  we 
are  neglecting  any  one !" 

IV 

He  did  not  reply  at  once,  for  the  conversation  car- 
ried him  back  to  a  period  he  would  have  liked  to  forget. 
God !  how  glad  he  was  to  be  home  again !  The  fighting 
days  at  least  had  given  opportunity  for  action,  but 
those  months  of  eimui  at  Coblentz !  Except  for  the  en- 
forced gaities,  he  and  the  others  would  have  gone  mad ! 
Anything  to  banish  all  thought  save  of  the  present. 
The  past  was  filled  with  awful  memories  of  trenches  and 
shells,  of  dead  and  dying  comrades  and  foes,  of  hard- 
ships and  privations ;  the  future  was  almost  as  terrify- 
ing with  its  uncertainties  and  its  dreaded  problems,  still 
unsettled,  perhaps  impossible  to  settle.  But  the  pres- 
ent remained, . .  a  present  beyond  their  control,  or- 
dained by  a  power  beyond  their  reach ;  a  waiting  pres- 
ent, to  be  endured.  And  to  make  it  endurable,  the  past 
and  future,  home  and  its  conventional  requirements, 
for  the  time  had  to  be  absolutely  forgotten. 

Richard  finally  turned  to  Lola,  ashamed  of  his 
momentary  obsession,  and  laughed  consciously. 

"How  impossible  it  is  to  keep  from  talking  about 
it !"  he  exclaimed ;  "yet  every  time  I  do  I  swear  I'll  never 
mention  it  again." 

"Whenever  I  start  out  trying  to  be  cheerful,  it  al- 
ways ends  this  way,"  Lola  admitted  consciously. 

"You  still  feel  it,  just  as  I  do." 
[8] 


THE    BALANCE 


"I  can't  shake  it  off,"  she  declared.  "I  find  myself 
out  of  sympathy  with  everything  and  everybody.  I 
try  ...  I  do  try  ...  to  forget  and  to  settle  back 
into  the  old  routine,  but  I  simply  can't  do  it." 

Richard  pressed  her  hand  sympathetically. 

"I  understand,"  he  said  simply.  "I  am  drifting  just 
as  you  are.  There's  no  use  trying  to  deceive  you. 
Everything  is  altered.  Father  is  different,  the  men 
in  the  factory  .  .  .  the  people  we  meet  socially  are 
different.     The  whole  world  is  different." 

His  intensity  caused  Lola  for  the  moment  to  forget 
her  own  introspection.  She  placed  her  hand  on  Rioh- 
ard's  arm. 

"I  wonder  if  the  change  is  in  the  whole  world  or 
just  in  ourselves?" 

"What  difference  does  it  make?"  Richard  demanded 
with  a  return  of  the  bitterness  in  his  voice.  "All  the 
idealism  I  thought  I  had  in  France  has  been  knocked 
out  of  me  since  I  came  home.  Now  I've  lost  faith  in 
everything." 

"Oh,  Dick,"  Lola  cried,  "don't  say  that !  It  is  be- 
cause of  that  idealism  that  things  seem  out  of  sorts  to 
you." 

"I  know ;  but  if  I'm  going  to  keep  myself  from  going 
stark,  staring  mad  I  must  forget  it  and  be  like  other 
people.     I  can't  change  them." 

"Think  what  you  and  I  gained  which  they  don't 
even  know  exists,"  she  urged.  "I  couldn't  give  that  up, 
nor  could  you." 

"It  all  seemed  fine  enough  over  there,"  Richard  ad- 
mitted.    "While  I  was  lying  flat  on  my  back  those 

[9] 


THE    BALANCE 


weeks  at  Toul  I  had  everything  worked  out.  I  called 
it  my  'vision.'  I  kept  asking  myself  what  it  was  all 
for,  and  I  had  the  greatest  pipe-dream  you  ever  knew. 
Then  I  came  home  and  found  .  .  .  this." 

"You  never  told  me  that,  Dick.  I  have  been  wor- 
ried to  see  you  so  restless  and  unhappy,  but  I  have 
no  fears  if  you  have  really  had  a  vision.  Tell  me  what 
it  was." 

"It  would  seem  ridiculous  now,  but  then  I  believed 
it  was  based  on  something.  I'm  trying  to  forget  it. 
Better  let  it  die  a  natural  death  and  bury  it." 

"No,  no,  Dick;  tell  it  to  me.  I  am  just  as  unhappy 
as  you,  but  the  knowledge  I  gained  that  there  is  some- 
thing greater  and  more  beautiful  than  anything  I  ever 
knew  before  has  helped  me  to  carry  on.  You  and  I 
have  a  message  to  the  others  which  we  have  not  yet 
delivered." 

"You  have  kept  up  your  war  work,  Lola.  You  don't 
have  to  push  into  the  background  that  which  brings 
out  the  best  there  is  in  you."  He  pointed  to  the  figure 
of  a  man  working  in  one  of  the  flower  beds.  "Barry 
O'Carolan  is  a  daily  reminder  of  something  you  have 
really  accomplished.  It  is  different  with  me.  In  France 
I  was  treated  as  a  man  whose  ideas  were  at  least  worth 
listening  to.  I  had  men  under  me.  I  gave  orders,  and 
could  keep  my  self-respect.  Here  I  have  nothing  but 
my  work  at  the  plant,  and  I  don't  fit  in  there  any 
more.  With  the  other  men,  I  am  simply  an  automaton, 
forbidden  to  think,  whose  loyalty  is  measured  by  my 
willingness  to  merge  my  individuality  in  the  mass  and 
to  accept  blindly  the  dictation  of  another.     I  tell  you, 

[10] 


THE    BALANCE 


it  is  maddening.  Think  of  it,  factory  work  after  three 
years  in  the  open!" 

"You  are  not  alone,  Dick.  There  are  hundreds  of 
the  workmen  who  feel  it  just  as  much." 

"That's  what  keeps  me  upset.  If  I  were  the  only 
one  I  could  cut  and  run,  but  there  are  boys  in  those 
shops  who  are  simply  eating  their  hearts  out  when 
they  were  perfectly  satisfied  before.  At  first  I  thought 
I  could  help  them,  but  I  can't  make  my  father  or  any 
of  these  stay-at-homes  understand  even  my  language. 
They  think  the  men  are  chesty  because  they  have  been  in 
the  army.  It  isn't  that,  .  .  their  experience  has  de- 
veloped them  and  given  them  a  new  dignity.  They  are 
entitled  to  respect.  Work  as  work  isn't  beneath  them, 
but  some  of  the  jobs  are,  even  though  they  weren't 
before.  The  men  don't  want  anything  given  them,  but 
they  do  want  a  chance  to  use  the  new  asset  they  have 
gained." 

"You  mustn't  give  up,"  Lola  insisted.  "You  are 
the  only  one  who  can  ever  hope  to  make  your  father 
and  the  Directors  like  daddy  understand.  You  owe  it 
to  these  men,  Dick,  and  when  you  have  put  it  over  for 
them  you  will  make  real  that  vision  of  yours,  .  .  please 
tell  me  what  it  was." 

"Little  chance,"  Richard  protested  doggedly ;  "but 
the  fact  that  I  am  still  here  shows  you  that  I  haven't 
quit  yet." 

"It  has  been  such  a  change  for  the  men  since  they 
returned  to  civilian  dress,"  Lola  continued,  .  .  "such 
a  contrast  in  the  way  they  have  been  treated  since  they 
were  welcomed  home  as   conquering  heroes ;   for  with 

[11] 


THE    BALANCE 


the  taking  off  of  the  uniforms  the  people  seem  to  feel 
that  as  the  war  is  over  it  should  be  forgotten." 

"For  the  people,"  Richard  interrupted  bitterly,  "the 
war  was  simply  a  seven-day  wonder;  but  for  the 
men  ..." 

"I  have  always  dreaded  this  time,"  Lola  persisted. 
"In  my  hospital  there  was  a  wonderful  little  French 
captain.  He  was  useless  for  further  military  service 
because  of  his  wounds,  so  they  assigned  him  to  our 
staff  as  helper.  One  sleeve  was  empty  and  one  leg  was 
wood,  like  Barry's,  but  he  used  to  hobble  around  the 
hospital  humming  the  'Marseillaise,'  greeting  every  one 
with  a  smile,  and  radiant  in  the  proud  possession  of  a 
brilliant  row  of  medals  fastened  on  his  breast.  Every 
one  called  him  'the  spirit  of  France.'  I  wonder  where 
he  is  now,  and  whether  he  is  still  smiling,  and  if  people 
are  still  as  considerate  of  him.  If  he  has  had  to  take 
off  his  uniform  and  put  aside  his  medals  what  is  there 
left,  Dick?  Nothing  but  his  helpless,  butchered  body. 
I  do  hope  that  the  people  around  him  haven't  forgotten 
what  it  represents." 

i  "At  any  rate,  his  government  is  taking  better  care 
of  him  than  we  have  taken  of  our  cripples,"  Richard 
blurted  out. 

"Ah,"  sighed  Lola,  "that  would  not  satisfy  him.  He 
lived  upon  the  admiration  which  he  saw  day  after  day 
in  the  eyes  of  every  one  around  him.  He  isn't  big 
enough,  Dick,  to  see  beyond,  so  once  his  beribboned 
uniform  is  taken  off  his  glory  vanishes  with  it  .  .  . 
Come,  Dick,  tell  me  of  your  vision." 

Richard  did  not  respond  at  once.    The  crystalization 
[12] 


THE    BALANCE 


of  his  weeks  of  introspection  had  meant  so  much  to  him 
that  in  the  reaction  he  had  suffered  more  than  he  was 
willing  to  admit  to  any  one.  But  Lola  at  least  under- 
stood. She,  of  all  the  people  he  knew,  would  sympa- 
thize with  it  even  though  the  possibility  of  its  realiza- 
tion had  long  since  departed. 

"You  remember,"  he  said  at  last,  "how  we  felt  when 
the  United  States  finally  entered  the  war?  We  were 
intoxicated  with  emotional  hysteria,  and  I  went  over- 
seas with  'France  and  Lafayette'  as  my  slogan,  and 
a  conviction  that  I  was  a  member  of  a  mighty  crusade. 
Everything  was  all  right  until  that  bullet  struck  me. 
Until  then  I  was  an  asset  to  my  country  and  to  France ; 
then  I  became  a  liability.  Lying  there  on  that  cot  I 
had  a  chance  to  think,  and  I  tell  you  I  thought  hard. 
Instead  of  being  a  mighty  crusader,  I  realized  that  I  was 
only  an  infinitesimal  atom,  a  cog  in  that  great  war 
machine  which  rolled  backwards  and  forwards  as  the 
tide  of  battle  turned,  leaving  behind  its  toll  of  broken 
men,  of  which  I  was  one." 

Lola  listened  to  him  attentively,  but  her  face  as- 
sumed the  pallor  of  the  Madonna  lilies.  His  words  re- 
called the  scenes  she  had  tried  hard  to  forget,  his 
intensity  gave  them  startling  vividness. 

"When  I  found  that  this  made  me  rebellious,"  Rich- 
ard continued,  "I  began  to  question  my  real  motives. 
Had  I  come  to  fight  for  France,  as  I  really  thought,  or 
was  it  the  adventure  that  appealed  to  me,  and  was 
my  whole  relation  to  the  war  a  selfish  one  after  all?" 

"But  you  had  risked  your  life,  Dick." 

"Wasn't  it  all  part  of  the  emotional  hysteria  and  of 
[13] 


THE    BALANCE 


the  adventure?"  he  asked;  "but  I  kept  on  thinking. 
Then  I  began  to  be  afraid  that  by  staying  so  long 
in  the  hospital  I  should  be  no  good  for  fighting  again. 
The  only  thing  that  kept  us  going,  you  know,  was  the 
feeling  that  it  was  all  a  great  game,  with  lives  instead 
of  goal-posts  for  counters.  Unless  we  felt  that  way 
we  couldn't  have  gone  through  with  it;  it  was  too 
ghastly.  Night  after  night  I  woke  up  covered  with 
sweat,  seeing  things  stripped  of  their  masks  in  their 
hideous  reality." 

Lola  placed  her  hand  gently  over  his.  In  his  suf- 
fering she  forgot  her  own,  and  her  sympathy  helped 
him. 

"I  am  so  glad  you  are  telling  me  this,"  she  said 
quietly.  "It  will  do  you  good  to  share  it  with  some 
one  .  .  .  All  this  was  before  your  vision  came  to  you?" 

"Yes.  I  came  out  of  this  phase  and  passed  into  the 
third  stage.  That  was  when  I  asked  myself  what  it 
was  all  for.  Here  were  thousands  of  wounded  men 
throughout  France  lying  on  cots  like  mine.  There  must 
be  something  beyond  adventure  which  had  attracted 
them  and  had  given  them  the  impulse  to  risk  their 
lives  .  .  .  Then  I  thought  I  had  found  the  answer." 

He  turned  away  from  the  girl  to  hide  the  bitterness 
in  his  face. 

"It  seems  so  foolish  to  talk  about  it  now  after  what 
you  and  I  have  seen  since  we  came  home,"  he  added. 

"Please  tell  me,"  Lola  begged.  "I  really  want  to 
know." 

"All  right.  I  know  you  won't  laugh  at  me.  Here 
it  is  as  well  as  I  can  tell  you:     At  that  moment  the 

[14] 


THE    BALANCE 


war  meant  to  me  a  release  from  something  which  before 
this  had  kept  me  bound.  What  we  were  fighting  for 
seemed  so  big  that  small  things,  our  lives  for  instance, 
assumed  their  proper  relative  positions.  Death,  the 
greatest  event  in  life,  had  always  before  seemed  useless ; 
now  we  had  the  privilege  of  meeting  it  in  a  manner 
equal  to  its  greatness.  Before  that  I  had  been  haunted 
by  a  fear  of  what  the  future  might  do  for  me,  and  this, 
of  course,  placed  a  hopeless  limitation  upon  my  life. 
At  that  moment  I  was  freed  from  any  fear  of  what  could 
happen,  for  the  only  thing  which  counted  was  the  big- 
common  cause.  I  had  been  on  the  outside  of  the  world, 
and  at  last  I  became  a  part  of  it." 

The  man  paused  as  if  ashamed  to  have  put  his 
thoughts  into  words.     Lola  looked  at  him  admiringly. 

"Oh,  Dick!"  she  cried,  "don't  tell  me  that  it  is  pos- 
sible to  have  had  such  a  vision  as  that  and  then  slip 
back." 

"It  is  possible,  Lola,"  he  answered,  with  a  note  so 
positive  in  his  voice  that  the  girl  was  shocked;  "it  not 
only  is  possible,  but  that  very  thing  has  happened.  I 
wish  we  might  agree  right  now  never  to  speak  of  the  war 
again." 

"Do  you  think  we  could  keep  any  such  agreement?" 
Lola  inquired,  struggling  to  recover  from  her  disap- 
pointment. 

"Probably  not,"  he  admitted,  "but  I  would  much 
rather  talk  about  ourselves." 

He  looked  into  her  face  with  an  appeal  she  could 
not  escape. 

"Lola,"  he  asked,  "when  are  we  going  to  be  married?" 
[15] 


THE    BALANCE 


The  change  of  the  subject  was  so  abrupt  that  she 
started  noticeably. 

"It  seems  sacrilegious  to  think  of  ourselves,  Dick, 
after  what  you  have  just  been  saying.  Somehow  I 
can't  seem  to  think  of  marriage  .  .  .  now  .  .  ." 

"I  know  you  can't,  and  I  wonder  if  you  ever  will. 
Since  I  came  home  everything  I  really  want  seems  to 
be  slipping  farther  and  farther  away  from  me.  There's 
a  hopelessness  about  it  that  keeps  me  unsettled  and  ap- 
prehensive. You  and  I  have  had  the  same  problems, 
Lola.  We  haven't  been  successful  in  solving  them  by 
ourselves,  but  if  we  were  married  .  .  ." 

"Don't  urge  me  against  my  better  judgment,  dear," 
she  pleaded  with  him.  "I  don't  understand  myself.  I 
know  that  my  love  for  you  is  deeper,  if  anything,  than 
when  you  went  away,  yet  I  don't  dare  trust  myself 
to  make  you  happy  until  I  find  out  what  this  change 
in  me  really  means.  Be  patient,  dear,  and  everything 
will  come  out  all  right.  Some  day  we  will  look  back 
at  this  uncertainty  and  laugh  at  our  fears." 

Richard  was  distinctly  annoyed  by  her  continued 
postponement,  and,  man-like,  made  no  attempt  to  con- 
ceal it.  He  rose  abruptly  and  picked  up  his  hat  from 
the  stone  table  beside  them. 

"All  right,"  he  said  with  a  show  of  resignation.  "I 
can't  force  you  to  marry  me,  but  you  must  not  wonder 
that  I've  lost  faith  in  everything.  The  boys  who  died 
over  there  still  believing  that  their  sacrifice  accom- 
plished something,  are  to  be  envied  rather  than  mourned. 
They  have  been  spared  the  awakening  that  has  come  to 
me." 

[16] 


THE    BALANCE 


Lola  was  distressed  to  see  him  so  wounded,  yet 
she  must  be  true  to  herself.  Her  eyes  moistened  as 
she  looked  at  him  with  infinite  tenderness,  almost 
motherly  in  its  understanding. 

"Don't  be  hurt,  Dick,"  she  pleaded.  "We  have  as- 
sumed responsibilities  whether  we  want  them  or  not. 
You  expressed  it  perfectly  when  you  said  that  before 
we  were  on  the  outside  of  the  world,  and  now  we  have 
become  a  part  of  it.  Our  happiness  can  only  come 
if  we  live  up  to  these  new  responsibilities." 

Richard's  disappointment  was  too  real  for  him 
to  yield  his  ill-temper,  and  he  turned  away  with  a  dep- 
recating shrug  of  his  shoulders. 


[17] 


CHAPTER     II 


LOLA  watched  the  unrelenting  back,  eloquent  in 
in  its  expression  of  disapproval,  as  Richard 
strode  away  from  her.  Their  conversation 
left  her  in  a  curious  state  of  mind.  If  the  subject 
of  marriage  had  not  been  mentioned,  she  could  have 
retained,  for  a  time  at  least,  the  exhilaration  she  had 
experienced;  as  it  was,  Dick's  inability  to  hold  himself 
consistent  to  his  own  convictions  made  her  happiness 
premature,  and  she  suffered  from  the  reaction. 

Richard  had  put  into  words  ideas  which  with  her 
had  before  been  merely  fugitive  thoughts,  and  to  have 
some  one  crystallize  them  was  in  itself  a  real  inspiration. 
He  admitted  that  through  his  experiences  he  had  gained 
an  ability  to  force  events  in  his  life  to  assume  their 
proper  relative  positions,  yet  when  she  shrank  from 
assuming  responsibilities  for  which  she  believed  them 
both  to  be  at  present  unprepared,  he  was  hurt  and 
offended.  If  Richard  had  looked  upon  the  war  as 
offering  the  privilege  of  meeting  death  in  a  manner 
equal  to  its  greatness,  by  the  same  token  he  should  look 
upon  war's  aftermath  as  giving  one  the  opportunity 
to  meet  marriage  in  the  same  spirit. 

[18] 


THE    BALANCE 


Marriage  to  the  average  woman  meant  a  home  and 
the  companionship  of  husband  and  children.  Lola 
could  not  bring  herself  to  consider  this  as  the  highest 
expression  of  herself.  It  was  a  part  of  that  expression, 
but  not  the  whole  of  it.  "I  had  been  on  the  outside 
of  the  world,  and  at  last  I  became  a  part  of  it,"  Rich- 
ard had  said.  He  felt  it,  just  as  she  did,  he  was  able  to 
translate  that  feeling  into  words,  but  he  was  not  trans- 
lating it  into  action.  If  they  married  now,  she  was 
convinced  that  he  would  never  attain  the  heights  which 
his  vision  flashed  before  him.  His  home  and  his  family 
would  give  him  relief  from  his  restlessness  and  from 
the  present  unsettled  nature  of  his  living,  and  he  and 
she  would  settle  down  into  the  same  self-centered,  hum- 
drum eixstence  that  thousands  and  hundreds  of  thou- 
sands of  families  are  living  today.  If  this  were  pos- 
sible, with  the  newly-created  conditions  crying  for  in- 
telligent, unselfish,  sacrificing  service,  then  the  agony 
and  bloodshed  of  those  awful  years  would  count  for 
nothing.  Richard  admitted  that  his  vision  was  now 
but  a  memory  of  disappointed  ideals,  and  that  he  had 
given  up  all  hope  of  compelling  its  realization.  That 
must  not  .  .  .  should  not  be.  For  his  own  sake  and 
for  hers  she  must  insist  that  he  live  up  to  it,  and  in  so 
doing  make  it  possible  that  their  union,  freed  from 
fear  of  what  the  future  might  do  for  them,  might  also 
be  freed  from  all  limitations,  and  devoted  to  the  great 
common  cause. 

II 

When  Richard  left  Lola  he  took  a  short  cut  through 
an   opening  in   the   brick  wall   which   surrounded   the 

[19] 


THE    BALANCE 


garden,  across  an  unreclaimed  field  onto  the  road.  He 
had  no  definite  objective,  his  one  conscious  thought 
being  that  he  was  out  of  sorts  with  Lola  for  her  con- 
tinued postponement  of  their  wedding.  Being  out  of 
sorts  had  come  to  be  a  habit  with  him.  His  work  at 
the  factory  was  distasteful,  his  home  life  associated 
itself  with  daily  wrangles  with  his  father,  and  now  he 
had  reached  a  point  where  he  began  to  question  Lola's 
devotion,  and  Lola  since  his  return  had  been  his  one 
haven  of  refuge.  She  had  changed,  .  .  that  was  ob- 
vious. Was  it  possible  that  the  new  Lola  had  lost, 
to  a  degree  at  least,  her  former  love  for  him?  Picking 
up  a  stick,  he  viciously  hacked  off  the  heads  of  the 
unoffending  daisies  which  showed  on  either  side  of  the 
walk,  meekly  bowing  their  heads  to  his  unwarranted 
reprisals. 

Suddenly  he  became  conscious  of  some  one  behind 
him  and  turned. 

"Hello,  Olga !"  he  exclaimed,  glad  to  have  his  mood 
interrupted,  and  waiting  for  the  girl  to  overtake  him. 

"What  strides  you  take!"  she  cried,  out  of  breath 
as  she  stood  beside  him;  "I  thought  I  should  never 
catch  you." 

"Where  were  you?" 

"Waiting  in  front  of  Mr.  Stewart's  house.  I  ex- 
pected you  to  come  out  that  way." 

"Waiting  for  what?" 

"For  you,"  she  replied  archly,  looking  up  at  him  out 
of  her  big,  brown  eyes  as  if  ready  for  reproof,  .  .  "for 
you,"  she  repeated,  "Mr.  Richard  Norton." 

Richard  laughed  at  her  defiant  manner  quite  as  much 
[20] 


THE    BALANCE 


as  at  her  words.  She  made  a  picture  as  she  stood 
there  with  militant  attitude,  in  her  pink  gingham  frock, 
which  set  off  her  dark  skin  and  flashing  eyes.  Olga 
Mirovich  would  attract  attention  anywhere.  Her  lithe 
body  ever  seemed  too  small  to  contain  a  spirit  so  fear- 
less and  dominating,  her  eyes  spoke  even  more  forcefully 
than  her  lips,  and  her  face  registered  her  emotions  with 
the  rapidity  and  accuracy  of  a  photographic  plate. 

"Why  should  you  be  waiting  for  me?"  Richard  asked. 

"Why  shouldn't  I?" 

"I'll  say  why  shouldn't  you?"  Richard  acquiesced, 
laughing  again. 

The  girl's  face  lighted  and  she  placed  her  hand  hes- 
itatingly on  his  arm. 

"That  is  what  I  told  Tony,  but  he  laughed  at  me." 

"Tony  Lemholtz?"  Richard  asked.  "Why  should 
he  laugh  at  you?" 

"  'The  son  of  the  great  James  Norton  will  not  stoop 
to  speak  with  a  factory-girl,'  he  said.  'But  he  speaks 
to  me  every  day  in  the  shop,'  I  answered,  and  I  tossed 
my  head  .  .  .  like  this.  Then  Tony  laughed.  'Per- 
haps in  the  shop,'  he  said ;  'but  it  is  different  outside.'  " 

"Tony  doesn't  know  me  as  well  as  you  do,  does  he, 
Olga?  .  .  Come,  we  will  walk  along  together  and  you 
will  tell  me  why  you  waited  for  me." 

Ill 

They  walked  on,  but  in  silence.  Richard  looked  at 
his  companion  occasionally,  and  saw  that  she  was  hes- 
itating for  just  the  right  words  to  convey  her  message. 
Olga  was  a  character  at  the  plant.     Ambitious,  alert, 

[21] 


THE    BALANCE 


active,  better  educated  than  her  companions,  she  was 
the  best  operative  in  her  department,  and  recognized 
by  the  other  women  in  the  works  as  their  leader  and 
spokesman.  Richard  had  first  noticed  her  one  day  when 
she  attacked  another  girl  who  taunted  her  with  being  a 
Russian.  The  workmen  laughingly  separated  them,  and 
while  the  two  assailants  were  held  far  enough  apart  to 
prevent  bodily  injury  the  girl  poured  out  the  vials 
of  her  wrath  upon  her  tormentor. 

"Don't  you  dare  say  that,  Katie  McGuire !"  she  cried 
passionately  with  flaming  eyes.  "  I  was  a  Russian. 
My  father  and  mother  were  Russians,  but  became  Amer- 
icans. Who  could  remain  a  Russian  who  had  seen  her 
grandmother  crippled  for  life  by  blows  from  the  knout 
.  .  •  whose  grandfather  died  from  exhaustion  in  the 
mines  of  Siberia,  whose  murdered  relatives  shed  a  long 
trail  of  blood  straight  to  the  palace  gate  of  the  White 
Czar !  I  am  not  a  Russian,  Katie  McGuire !  My  father 
and  mother  and  I  escaped  and  came  to  this  country. 
When  our  ship  entered  the  great  harbor  of  New  York 
my  father  pointed  to  the  statue  where  Liberty  holds  up 
her  torch,  and  said  to  my  mother,  'Now  at  last  I  am  a 
man  .  .  .  you  are  a  human  being  .  .  .  and  we  are  all 
Americans.'  If  you  say  again  I  am  a  Russian,  Katie 
McGuire,  I  will  bite  your  ear  off !    I  can  do  it !" 

Never  had  Richard  seen  such  passionate  fire  as  dom- 
inated that  slight,  pulsating  figure.  She  seemed  the 
embodiment  of  the  sublime  courage  which  finally  enabled 
her  people  to  throw  off  the  yoke  which  centuries  of 
serfdom  had  locked  around  their  necks,  even  though 
they,  like  Olga,  are  still  children  too  undeveloped  to 

[22] 


THE    BALANCE 


use  their  new-found  freedom  wisely.  Ever  since  that 
day  Richard  had  improved  every  opportunity  to  talk 
with  the  girl,  and  encouraged  her  to  tell  him  of  herself. 

IV 

But  it  was  not  the  militant  Olga  who  walked  beside 
him  in  the  twilight  of  this  July  afternoon.  Their  steps 
had  taken  them  to  the  edge  of  the  lake  which  to  Nor- 
crossians  is  the  most  beautiful  sheet  of  water  in  the 
world.  With  certain  allowances  made  for  local  pride, 
it  is  still  fair  to  say  that  East  Lake  owes  no  apology  to 
any  similar  spot,  for  the  pines  and  the  hemlocks  and 
the  cedars  group  themselves  in  picturesque  beauty 
around  its  banks,  while,  beyond,  the  heavier  growth  of 
timberland  rises  gently  to  the  Blue  Hills.  The  sun  was 
just  disappearing  behind  the  trees  as  the  two  seated 
themselves  on  a  rough  wooden  bench  built  upon  a  slight 
eminence  above  the  water. 

"You  haven't  told  me  yet  why  you  waited  for  me, 
Olga,"  Richard  reminded  her. 

The  girl  started  from  her  reverie. 

"It  is  so  wonderful !"  she  answered  irrelevantly,  giv- 
ing herself  up  without  restraint  to  the  sensuous  joy 
of  the  beauty  of  her  surroundings  .  .  .  "But  I  will  tell 
you,  for  you  are  in  haste  to  go  home  and  be  rid  of  little 
Olga." 

"No,  no,"  Richard  humored  her ;  smiling  at  this  new 
mood  which  he  had  never  seen.  "I  am  in  no  hurry.  This 
is  all  very  beautiful  as  you  say,  and  you  fit  into  the  pic- 
ture perfectly  .  .  .  You  are  a  beautiful  child,  Olga, 
even  if  your  temper  is  so  violent." 

[23] 


THE    BALANCE 


"I  am  not  a  child,  and  my  temper  is  for  those  I  hate," 
she  declared  ...  "I  will  tell  you  why  I  waited.  It  is 
about  the  men  at  the  factory.  They  are  planning 
something,  I  do  not  know  yet  what.  They  are  not 
sure  about  you.  Are  you  James  Norton's  son  or  are 
you  one  of  us?  I  told  Tony  I  would  find  out,  for  no 
one  else  dared  ask  you." 

"It  ought  not  to  take  so  much  courage  to  ask  me, 
little  Olga,"  Richard  answered  soberly,  unconsciously 
giving  her  the  epithet  she  herself  had  used ;  "but  it  will 
take  far  more  to  answer  it.  The  men  must  know  that 
I  am  not  in  sympathy  with  many  of  the  present  methods 
at  the  factory.  I  want  them  to  realize  that  I  am  doing 
and  shall  do  all  I  can  to  correct  some  of  the  injustices 
I  have  seen  since  I  came  home  from  France.  To  that 
extent  I  am  one  of  them.  But  if  they  are  planning 
violence  I  am  against  them,  .  .  not  only  because  I  am 
James  Norton's  son,  but  also  because  I  am  an  employee 
of  the  Company  and  I  am  loyal.  If  the  men  will  trust 
me  I  can  help  them.  You  may  tell  them  that.  If  they 
don't  trust  me,  tell  them  I  will  keep  away  from  their 
meetings,  for  I  am  no  spy." 

"I  trust  you,"  Olga  announced  simply.  "You  are 
the  son  of  a  rich  man,  Mr.  Richard  Norton,  but  at 
heart  you  are  one  of  us,  and  I  know  it." 

"There  should  be  no  contradiction  in  that,  for  the 
rich  man  needs  the  help  of  the  workman  just  as  the 
workman  needs  the  money  of  the  rich  man.  Those 
of  us  who  went  to  the  war,  Olga,  learned  many  lessons 
which  we  must  impart  to  those  who  didn't  have  the  same 
chance  to  learn  them." 

[24] 


THE    BALANCE 


The  girl  looked  up  at  him  admiringly. 

"The  men  will  trust  you,"  she  assured  him  confidently. 
"You  fought  for  us  just  as  you  fought  for  the  rich 
people.  If  the  country  which  was  once  my  country 
had  not  been  a  traitor  you  would  not  have  had  to  fight 
so  hard.  I  would  kill  myself  from  shame  if  I  were  still 
a  Russian  and  not  an  American." 

"You  are  an  American,  sure  enough,  Olga,"  Richard 
acknowledged;  "no  one  could  doubt  that  .  .  .  Now 
shall  I  take  you  back  to  the  town?    It  is  getting  dark." 

"You  need  take  me  nowhere,  Mr.  Richard  Norton, 
unless  you  want  to.  Olga  can  take  care  of  herself 
.  .  .  But  do  you  not  like  me  a  little  bit?" 

"Of  course  I  like  you.     Who  could  help  it?" 

They  were  standing  now.  As  she  spoke  Olga  drew 
nearer  to  him,  playing  with  the  buttons  on  his  coat. 
Suddenly  she  raised  her  head  and  smiled  roguishly  as 
her  eyes,  shining  like  twin  stars,  met  his  in  the  dusk. 
She  felt  his  instinctive  movement  toward  her  and  then 
the  reaction  of  his  enforced  restraint. 

"You  may  if  you  wish,  Mr.  Richard  Norton,"  she 
whispered;  "but  I  am  glad  you  waited,  for  Olga's  lips 
are  not  freely  given." 

"No,  no,"  he  exclaimed  quickly;  "it  would  not  be 
fair." 

"To  the  lady  in  Mr.  Stewart's  garden?"  she  asked 
daringly,  pouting  her  pique.  "Was  it  her  fairness 
to  you  that  made  you  knock  the  heads  off  all  the  poor 
daisies?     If  she  is  fair  why  does  she  not  marry  you?" 

Her  words  irritated  Richard. 

"She  is  not  sure  yet  that  she  .  .  .  loves  me,"  he 
[25] 


THE    BALANCE 


admitted,  and  then  was  more  annoyed  that  he  had  been 
surprised  into  this  acknowledgment. 

"Not  sure!  Then  it  is  'no.'  There  is  never  doubt 
in  a  woman's  heart.  She  loves  or  she  does  not  love. 
She  does  not  know  why,  she  does  not  care  why,  but  she 
knows  that  it  is  or  it  is  not." 

"I  was  not  thinking  of  her,  little  Olga ;  it  would  not 
be  fair  to  you  to  kiss  you,  even  though  you  make  it 
mighty  hard  to  resist." 

"Not  fair  to  me !  Since  when  have  you  had  to  think 
of  that?  I  have  told  you  that  Olga  can  take  care  of 
herself.  You  think  I  love  you  because  I  offer  my  lips? 
You  flatter  yourself,  Mr.  Richard  Norton.  Do  you 
know  what  a  kiss  means  to  me?  It  is  wine  sipped  by 
two  friends  from  the  same  glass ;  not  vodka,  for  that  is 
sluggish,  but  sparkling  wine  which  sets  the  blood  on 
fire  and  makes  me  live  for  that  happy  moment  in  an- 
other world,  .  .  in  my  friend's  world.  But  if  I  loved 
you,  .  .  ha !  You  would  know  it !  There  would  be 
no  doubt  as  with  the  lady  in  Mr.  Stewart's  garden. 
I  have  never  yet  loved  a  man,  Mr.  Richard  Norton, 
but  can  you  not  be  little  Olga's  friend?" 

Richard  turned  his  hand  until  her  fingers  were  in 
his  grasp.  Instinctively  he  drew  her  toward  him,  and 
she  held  her  face  close  to  his  in  tantalizing  proximity. 

"I  have  warned  you,  little  Olga,"  he  exclaimed ;  "but 
I  am  human!" 

"Because  we  both  are  human,  and  because  we  are 
friends,  why  should  we  not  sip  the  wine  together?" 

He  felt  her  body  yield  as  he  crushed  the  slight  form 
in  his  arms,  and  Olga  gave  a  little  sigh  of  happiness 

[26] 


THE    BALANCE 


as  his  lips  pressed  against  hers.    When  he  released  her 
she  stood  quivering  for  a  moment  beside  him. 

"If  you  had  ever  kissed  the  Stewart  lady  like  that 
you  would  be  married  by  now,"  she  cried  mischievously ; 
and  in  another  moment  she  had  fled  from  him  into  the 
twilight. 


[27] 


CHAPTER     III 


NORCROSS  is  an  attractively-located  factory- 
town  lying  not  many  miles  from  Boston  at  the 
foot  of  the  Blue  Hills,  and  it  draws  its  life 
from  the  great  plant  of  the  Norton  Manufacturing 
Company.  Not  that  its  population  is  limited  to  those 
who  gain  their  livelihood  from  this  prosperous  cor- 
poration, for  the  proximity  of  Norcross  to  a  great 
city  and  its  own  physical  attractions  have  proved  a 
magnet  to  other  householders  who  seek  natural  beauty, 
fresh  air,  and  an  opportunity  for  expansion  in  estab- 
lishing their  homes.  Still,  it  is  a  fair  statement  that 
without  the  physical  presence  of  the  great  plant  the 
town  would  still  be  enjoying  the  Rip  Van  Winkle  sleep 
which  is  the  fate  of  other  New  England  towns  un- 
touched as  yet  by  commerce. 

Even  the  business  section  of  the  town  has  not  de- 
stroyed the  beauties  which  Nature  alloted  to  it  with 
lavish  hand.  Either  by  uncanny  foresight  or  fortunate 
coincidence  the  early  builders  of  the  town  planted  the 
rows  of  elms  and  oaks  straight  and  well  separated,  so 
that  the  new  macadam  streets  trespassed  only  upon  the 
broad  grass  borders  of  the  walks.  Now  these  trees 
intertwine  their  foliage,  partially  concealing  the  stone 

[28] 


THE    BALANCE 


business  blocks,  and  form  fascinating  vistas,  to  which 
even  the  adopted  citizens  point  with  pride.  Outside 
the  centre  of  the  town  the  broad  State  roads,  well 
maintained,  run  to  the  south  toward  the  Blue  Hills, 
the  houses  on  either  side  being  unpretentious  but  ex- 
pressive of  their  orderly,  self-respecting  owners.  To 
the  north,  the  roads  run  to  the  great  New  England 
metropolis,  and  over  these  arteries  one  sees  a  constant 
stream  of  motor-trucks  and  other  vehicles  conveying 
produce  and  production  from  Norcross  to  its  markets. 
The  people  of  Norcross  divide  themselves  into  two 
distinct  groups,  even  as  did  those  of  ancient  Greece, 
and  they  possess  many  of  the  same  characteristics. 
Those  who  would  have  been  Dorians  in  Athens  are  the 
elderly  people  who  still  cling  loyally  to  the  ancestral 
customs  and  the  traditions  associated  with  their  be- 
loved homesteads.  Abandoned  by  their  progeny,  which 
seeks  its  fortune  in  the  more  exciting  atmosphere  of  the 
cities,  the  Norcrossian-Dorians,  recognizing  the  hope- 
lessness of  opposing  modern  innovations,  gratify  their 
self-respect  by  accepting  new  conditions  under  chronic 
protest.  The  Ionic  portion  of  Norcross  are  the  doers, 
and  they,  true  to  their  classification,  have  brought  to 
the  town  undoubted  creative  activity  which,  combined 
with  the  expression  of  their  love  of  arts  and  letters, 
gives  to  it  an  air  of  refinement  often  lacking  in  more 
pretentious  communities, 

II 

When,  years  ago,  Norcross  received  its  present  bap- 
tismal name,  James  Norton,  founder  of  the  Norton 

[29] 


THE    BALANCE 


Manufacturing  Company  and  still  its  autocratic  mas- 
ter, confidently  expected  to  have  his  own  family  cogno- 
men perpetuated  in  the  lexicon  of  Massachusetts  proper 
names ;  but  a  rival  appeared  in  the  person  of  one  Henry 
Cross,  the  titular  head  of  a  family  which  had  inhabited 
the  town  since  the  Indian  wigwam  gave  way  to  the 
Colonial  style  of  architecture.  The  coming  of  the 
great  industry  to  the  town  had  been  a  heart-breaking 
blow  to  the  Cross  family,  which  was  essentially  Doric 
in  birth  and  inclinations.  Until  then  Henry  Cross  had 
been  the  undisputed  squire  of  the  simple,  well-man- 
nered New  England  village,  and  his  women-folk  basked 
in  his  reflected  glory.  No  family  possessed  so  many 
broad  acres,  carefully  tilled  and  productively  cul- 
tivated. The  Cross  "mansion"  was  the  finest  in  the 
village,  filled  as  it  was  with  rarest  Colonial  furniture 
inherited  from  earlier  generations,  and  decorated  with 
family  portraits  and  New  England  samplers  which 
successively  and  chronologically  marked  the  feminine 
progression  of  the  Cross  dynasty. 

The  coming  of  the  Norton  Manufacturing  Company 
not  only  threatened  the  supremacy  of  Henry  Cross 
but  promptly  eclipsed  it.  The  Norton  workmen  re- 
quired homes,  and  the  neighbors  of  the  Cross  family 
sold  their  farms  piece-meal  for  building-lots  at  prices 
which  to  them  made  the  advent  of  the  new  industry  a 
fortuitous  act  of  God;  but  the  Cross  acres  remained 
intact,  and  "No  Trespass"  signs  appeared  at  every 
corner.  In  a  single  decade  the  sleepy  little  farming  set- 
tlement was  metamorphosed  into  a  thriving  New  Eng- 
land manufacturing  town,  and  James  Norton  was  its 

[30] 


THE    BALANCE 


leading  citizen.  His  stone  house  made  the  Cross  man- 
sion appear  insignificant,  and  was  rivaled  only  by  a 
similar  estate  developed  by  William  Stewart,  Lola's 
father,  who  next  to  Norton  was  the  largest  stockholder 
in  the  Company.  New  and  modern  schools  sprang  up, 
the  Congregational  church  now  had  denominational 
rivals ;  a  bank  was  established,  with  James  Norton  as 
its  president.  The  change  in  the  old  village  was  com- 
plete, and  even  Henry  Cross  realized  that  former  con- 
ditions had  passed  never  to  return. 

Yet  this  realization  could  not  kill  the  resentment  nor 
the  antagonism  which  had  smouldered  during  these 
eventful  years,  and  when  James  Norton  undertook  to 
substitute  his  own  name  for  the  long-respected  but  non- 
committal "Eastham,"  Henry  Cross  rose  in  town  meet- 
ing and  in  his  wrath  to  express  his  ideas  in  no  un- 
certain phrases.  The  renaming  of  the  town  was  the 
chief  topic  of  conversation  for  weeks,  and  the  Dorian 
faction  of  the  townspeople,  even  though  begrudgingly 
admitting  the  advantages  accruing  from  Mr.  Norton's 
many  activities,  ranged  themselves  against  him  as  an 
expression  of  individual  rights.  The  compromise  is 
shown  in  the  name  finally  adopted.  Henry  Cross  claimed 
to  have  won  the  victory  because  in  "Norcross"  the 
whole  of  his  name  was  embodied  and  only  a  fragrant 
of  his  rival's,  while  James  Norton  retorted  that  a  frag- 
ment of  his  name  more  than  offset  the  whole  of  Henry 
Cross's,  and  even  at  that  the  fragment  was  given  pre- 
cedence. 

With  a  name  which  so  well  combined  the  Doric  and 
Ionic  styles  of  architecture,  the  town  again  settled  down 

[31] 


THE    BALANCE 


to  its  business  of  growing.  The  plant  grew,  requiring 
more  dwellings  for  its  workmen;  the  families  grew,  re- 
quiring more  schools  and  churches.  The  farms  gradu- 
ally disappeared,  making  way  for  new  intersecting 
streets,  new  homes,  and  new  public  buildings.  Nor- 
cross  had  more  than  reached  adolescence  before  the 
war  came,  but  with  this  epoch-making  event  the  town 
at  once  blossomed  into  full  maturity.  The  Norton 
Manufacturing  Company  became  a  war  industry,  work- 
ing three  eight-hour  shifts ;  and  not  even  Henry  Cross 
would  have  had  the  temerity  to  dispute  the  universal 
local  conviction  that  so  long  as  the  town  of  Norcross 
stood,  the  Kaiser  and  his  hordes  would  wage  a  hopeless 
strife  in  their  efforts  to  uproot  civilization. 

Ill 

If  James  Norton  had  been  an  autocrat  before,  the 
war  made  of  him  a  Czar.  To  have  the  orders  exceed 
the  capacity  of  his  factory,  to  find  a  patriotic  response 
in  his  men  to  the  demand  to  rise  to  every  emergency, 
to  have  the  authority  to  drive  ceaselessly  for  greater 
output,  represented  to  him  the  apotheosis  of  human 
satisfaction.  Stern,  upright,  demanding  much  but 
never  more  than  he  believed  himself  willing  to  give 
under  similar  circumstances,  he  represented  the  old 
school  of  industrial  leaders  who  force  production  by 
"putting  the  fear  of  God"  into  their  workmen. 

"You  tell  the  men  from  me,"  was  his  favorite  message 
sent  through  the  superintendent  or  foremen,  "that  as 
long  as  they  play  fair  with  me  I'll  play  fair  with  them, 
but"  .  .  .  and  he  would  bring  his  fist  down  hard  on 

[32] 


THE    BALANCE 


his  mahogany  desk  »  .  .  "tell  them  to  get  this,  that 
I'm  the  boss  'round  here  and  what  I  say  goes.  I'll  do  the 
thinking  for  the  lot  of  'em,  and  they'll  do  the  work." 

Norton  really  believed  that  he  always  played  fair 
with  his  men,  and  when  they  rebelled  he  was  sincere  in 
regarding  them  as  ungrateful  and  disloyal. 

"Loyalty,"  he  would  say,  "means  the  willingness  of 
a  workman  to  come  through  with  a  full  day's  work  for 
a  full  day's  pay,  and  to  work  harder  than  that  when 
the  welfare  of  his  concern  demands  it.  When  he  isn't 
loyal  like  that  he's  biting  the  hand  that  feeds  him,  and 
God  a'mighty  hates  a  snake !" 

There  were  rumblings  throughout  the  plant  before 
the  war  which  annoyed  but  did  not  disturb  Norton,  and 
when  these  disappeared  in  the  patriotic  fervor  which 
swept  through  every  stratum  in  every  community  he 
was  completely  deceived.  He  honestly  believed  that  at 
last  the  workmen  in  his  factory  not  only  recognized 
their  obligation  to  capital,  but  that  in  so  doing  they 
served  their  own  best  interests.  Never  was  he  so  tire- 
less in  his  own  personal  efforts ;  never  so  demanding 
of  his  men;  never  so  successful  in  accomplishing  the 
maximum  translated  into  terms  of  production.  As  an 
added  happiness,  his  son  had  at  last  done  something 
which  pleased  him,  .  .  .  his  own  son,  Richard,  had  been 
among  the  first  to  throw  down  his  tools  and  enlist  to 
fight  for  America's  ideals.  Henry  Cross  had  no  son 
to  send,  so  Norton  felt  that  he  had  scored  again  on 
his  vituperative  adversary. 

The  military  experience  Richard  would  get  would 
surely  make  a  man  of  him.     Not  that  James  Norton 

[33] 


i 


THE    BALANCE 


had  any  special  complaint  to  make  of  his  son's  conduct 
before  the  war,  except  that  he  was  the  only  one  who 
ever  dared  to  differ  with  him.  This,  Norton  contended, 
was  simply  an  expression  of  youth  and  inexperience. 
To  cure  him  of  both  these  diseases  Richard  had  been 
put  at  work  in  overalls  with  the  men,  and  it  had  been 
Norton's  intention  to  keep  him  there  until  he  "grew 
up,"  .  .  .  which  was  another  way  of  saying,  "until  he 
learns  to  agree  with  his  father."  Then  Fate  stepped 
in  and  took  Richard  from  his  job,  transferred  him 
over-seas,  and  placed  him  under  the  tyrant  War,  .  .  . 
the  sternest  master  in  the  world.  When  Richard  re- 
turned, Norton  confidently  assured  himself,  the  boy 
would  have  learned  his  lesson,  and  the  necessity  of 
further  labor  in  the  shops  might  be  removed.  In  James 
Norton's  heart  was  an  unspoken  yearning  to  have  his 
son  shoulder  to  shoulder  with  him  in  the  administration 
of  the  business,  an  affection  for  the  boy  which  he  never 
let  him  know,  an  unexpressed  desire  to  shift  onto 
younger  shoulders  some  of  the  business  load  he  had 
carried  alone  for  so  many  years. 

Then,  after  a  quarter  century  of  success  as  measured 
by  the  ability  to  have  his  own  way,  the  world  began  to 
rock.  Wages  went  up,  not  five  or  ten  per  cent.,  but 
forty,  fifty,  sixty  per  cent.  This  in  itself  was  not  so 
important  while  every  advance  could  be  passed  on  to 
the  consumer,  but  Norton  knew  what  this  increase 
would  do  to  the  morale  of  the  men,  and  his  apprehen- 
sions grew. 

"Workmen  can't  stand  getting  what  they  want,"  he 
emphasized   to  his   Board   of  Directors;   "they   can't 

[34] 


THE    BALANCE 


stand  prosperity.  Keep  'em  lean,  with  wrinkles  in  their 
bellies,  and  they  will  work  instead  of  talk,  and  that 
saves  a  lot  of  trouble." 

With  the  demand  for  labor  so  much  in  excess  of  the 
supply,  Norton  was  forced  to  make  compromises  dur- 
ing the  months  which  preceded  Richard's  return,  but 
he  bided  his  time  and  awaited  his  opportunity  to  put 
the  workmen  back  into  their  proper  place.  What  sur- 
prised him  was  that  the  ex-service  men  who  returned 
to  their  old  positions  after  demobilization  were  the  least 
tractable.  They  should  have  learned  from  their  army 
experience  the  lesson  of  absolute  and  immediate  obedi- 
ence to  the  orders  of  their  superiors.  But  when  Rich- 
ard came  home  he  would  know  how  to  handle  them. 

IV 

With  Richard's  home-coming  James  Norton's  phil- 
osophy of  life  received  still  another  jolt.  The  boy 
insisted  upon  thinking  for  himself  and  acting  upon  his 
own  conclusions.  Previously  Richard  might  have  sput- 
tered over  his  father's  arbitrary  decisions,  but  he  al- 
ways accepted  them.  Now  he  listened  respectfully  and 
then  calmly  advanced  his  own  opinions,  with  appar- 
ently no  idea  that  such  independence  was  rebellion. 
When  James  Norton  advised  him  of  the  decision  to 
transfer  him  from  the  works  to  the  office,  Richard  not 
only  showed  no  appreciation  of  the  concession,  but 
actually  declined  it. 

"I'll  be  no  good  anywhere  for  a  while,"  he  explained ; 
"but  I'll  do  better  in  a  job  where  I  have  to  work  hard 
with  my  hands." 

[35] 


THE    BALANCE 


His  father  might  have  been  satisfied  if  Richard  had 
confined  his  labor  to  that  of  his  hands,  but  during  the 
months  since  his  return  Norton  found  that  the  young 
man's  head  had  never  for  a  moment  ceased  to  function. 
Richard  was  changed,  and  for  the  worse,  his  father 
reluctantly  but  emphatically  concluded.  The  boy's 
ideas  had  become  fixed  and  he  was  as  stubborn  as  a 
mule.  He  refused  to  quarrel  with  his  father,  but  made 
no  effort  to  conceal  his  entire  disapproval  of  the  type 
of  management  which  to  the  older  man  was  second 
nature.  Why  should  his  own  son  turn  against  him  and 
take  the  side  of  the  men?  They  were  quite  competent 
to  present  their  own  brief.  And  as  for  Richard's  ar- 
guments .  .  .  they  were  actually  socialistic!  What 
annoyed  Norton  most  was  the  expression  left  on  Rich- 
ard's face  at  the  termination  of  every  discussion.  When 
others  disagreed  with  James  Norton  they  made  a  point 
of  concealing  it,  but  Richard's  disapproval  was  written 
all  over  him.  The  two  men  had  ceased  to  speak  the 
same  language,  and  their  sole  remaining  community 
of  interest  was  gone. 

"All  right,  father,"  Richard  said  wearily  at  the 
conclusion  of  one  of  these  "scenes,"  "let's  let  it  go  at 
that.  I  can't  make  you  see  things  my  way  and  I  can't 
agree  with  you.  You  have  built  blinders  over  your 
eyes  and  you  can't  look  through  them.  Some  day  the 
men  will  take  things  into  their  own  hands  and  tear  those 
blinders  off." 

"They  will  if  they  can,"  Norton  retorted ;  "you  may 
be  sure  of  that.  But  they  have  tried  it  before  and  I'm 
still  on  my  job.    And  that  job  is  to  demand  from  the 

[36] 


THE    BALANCE 


workmen  what  they  owe  in  exchange  for  what  I  give 
them." 

"You  don't  ask  enough  of  them  at  that,"  Richard 
surprised  his  father  by  saying;  "you  ask  too  little  of 
their  heads.  You  not  only  don't  ask  them  to  think  but 
you  won't  let  them." 

"Of  course  I  won't  ...  I  knew  there  was  some  catch 
in  that  remark.  If  a  workman  thinks  one  thing  he'll 
think  another,  and  the  first  thing  you  know  he'll  get  his 
thoughts  centered  on  our  profits  and  his  wages.  Then 
he'll  demand  more  money." 

"That's  what  he's  thinking  about  now,"  Richard 
insisted ;  "you  can't  stop  it.  Give  him  something  about 
his  job  to  use  his  thinkers  on  and  get  his  mind  off  the 
things  you  don't  want  him  to  think  about." 

Norton  regarded  his  son  steadily  for  a  moment. 
Then  his  face  assumed  that  expression  which  Richard 
dreaded. 

"You  and  the  other  fellows  who  went  into  service 
have  come  home  with  the  idea  that  you  know  it  all, 
haven't  you?  I  thought  you  would  learn  obedience  and 
respect  for  the  experience  and  knowledge  of  your  supe- 
riors. Far  from  it  .  .  .  you  all  know  how  to  run  this 
business  better  than  I  do  after  forty  years  in  the  shafts. 
Why  don't  you  apply  some  of  the  army  discipline  to 
business  instead  of  being  insubordinate  and  pigheaded? 
How  much  thinking  did  they  ever  let  you  do  in  the 
army  ?" 

Richard  smiled  in  spite  of  his  mood  as  the  question 
recalled  certain  episodes  in  France  where  the  American 
army,  raised  over  night  and  put  into   action  before 

[37] 


THE    BALANCE 


military  traditions  could  be  assimilated,  failed  to  live  up 
to  the  strict  discipline  associated  with  the  service. 

"The  boys  did  think  over  there,  father,  every  time 
they  had  a  chance.  Of  course  it  was  wrong  from  a 
military  standpoint.  We  were  the  worst  disciplined 
but  the  most  unbeatable  army  in  the  world.  You  don't 
want  automatons  in  the  plant;  you  want  real  men,  .  . 
men  who  think  but  whose  line  of  thought  can  be  guided, 
men  who  can  feel  that  they  put  themselves  into  their 
work  and  can  get  some  satisfaction  out  of  their  efforts. 
You  are  the  master  mind,  of  course ;  but  the  men  would 
give  you  far  more  than  you  can  ever  drive  out  of  them 
if  they  once  felt  that  their  work  was  an  expression  of 
their  own  free  will." 

"Isn't  it  wonderful!"  the  older  man  rejoined  sar- 
castically. "My  son,  full  of  the  wisdom  of  twenty- 
eight  years,  gives  his  father  a  primary  school  lesson 
on  how  to  handle  men!  My  boy,  .  .  I  was  the  head 
of  this  business  before  you  were  out  of  swaddling 
clothes.  I  have  studied  it  root  and  branch  all  these 
years  while  you  have  been  growing  up.  I  know  what 
is  going  on  in  every  department,  at  every  desk,  even 
inside  every  machine.  Do  you  think  you  can  tell  me 
anything  I  don't  know  about  my  own  business?" 

"Yes,"  Richard  retorted  quickly;  "you  may  know 
what  is  going  on  inside  every  machine,  but  you  don't 
know  what  is  going  on  inside  the  men's  heads.  I  do, 
and  unless  you  find  out  there  is  trouble  ahead  and 
plenty  of  it  for  the  Norton  Manufacturing  Company !" 


[38] 


CHAPTER     IV 


TWO  OR  THREE  months  after  Lola  Stewart 
returned  from  over-seas,  she  received  a  tele- 
gram from  the  Red  Cross  in  Chicago  stating 
that  a  one-legged  ex-service  man,  Barry  O'Carolan  by 
name,  stranded  without  funds,  had  applied  for  assist- 
ance in  getting  to  Norcross,  claiming  that  he  had  an 
invitation  to  visit  her  there. 

This  message  recalled  to  Lola  that  part  of  her  war 
service  in  which  she  had  taken  greatest  satisfaction, 
for  it  was  a  case  where  she  had  been  able  to  see  tangible 
results.  It  brought  back  a  vivid  picture  of  the  great 
ward  in  which  she  had  worked  tirelessly,  ceaselessly, 
even  hopelessly,  as  the  stream  of  wounded  men  poured 
in  and  passed  out,  .  .  cured  and  ready  for  further 
service,  convalescent,  or  tightly  rolled  in  their  army 
blankets.  So  much  had  to  be  impersonal  there,  for 
patients  as  well  as  for  surgeons  and  nurses,  that  to 
have  any  one  separate  himself  from  the  others  was  in 
itself  an  event.  Barry  had  been  the  event  in  Lola's 
hospital  experience. 

"See  what  you  can  do  with  that  case  over  there,"  the 
surgeon  said  to  her.    "He  has  a  wonderful  constitution, 

[39] 


THE    BALANCE 


but  he  doesn't  want  to  pull  through,  and  he  won't  un- 
less some  one  can  interest  him  in  something." 
Lola  looked  up  his  record: 

BARRY  O'CAROLAN:  sergeant;  age,  30;  mechani- 
cian, 34tth  Aero  Squadron.  Shot  down  with  his  plane 
near  Grand  Pre.  Previous  occupation,  big  game  hun- 
ter. Home  address,  Collins,  Wyoming.  Newt  of  kin, 
none. 

There  he  lay  in  his  narrow  cot,  with  his  face  stub- 
bornly turned  to  the  wall,  physically  helpless  and  men- 
tally rebellious  at  any  attempt  to  relieve  his  suffering 
or  to  give  him  hope  for  the  future.  When  Lola  suc- 
ceeded in  getting  him  to  answer  her  at  all  there  was 
a  surly  resentment  in  his  voice  and  antagonism  in  his 
attitude. 

"Why  can't  you  leave  me  alone  ?"  he  demanded,  turn- 
ing toward  her.  "There's  no  use  tryin'  to  do  anythin' 
for  me.     I'm  done  for." 

"I  wouldn't  admit  that,"  Lola  disputed  quietly. 

"You  nurses  make  me  tired !  I'm  not  a  kid.  I  know 
when  I'm  done  for.  It's  a  hell  of  a  kindness  to  patch 
a  feller  up  so  he  can  live  on  and  starve !  Why  couldn't 
they  do  a  good  job  and  let  me  pass  out  as  a  hero  for 
my  country  instead  of  stayin'  on  as  a  no-account 
cripple  ?" 

"What  makes  you  think  you'll  have  to  starve?" 

"Think,"  he  growled;  "isn't  that  just  like  a  woman! 
I  don't  think,  .  .  I  know.  The  only  thing  I  can  do 
to  earn  a  livin'  is  hunt  big  game.  Did  you  ever  try 
huntin'  big  game  with  one  leg?    P'raps  I  could  whistle 

[40] 


THE    BALANCE 


and  charm  the  brutes  to  stand  in  front  of  my  cabin 
while  I  shoot  'em !" 

"I  never  tried  it,"  Lola  admitted;  "but  I  have  an 
uncle  who  has." 

"Hunted  big  game  with  only  one  leg?" 

Barry  turned  his  face  to  her  again,  but  his  expression 
showed  absolute  incredulity. 

"Yes,"  Lola  continued;  "I  used  to  go  hunting  with 
him  often.  Once  there  was  a  bear  that  the  whole  county 
was  trying  to  kill.  My  uncle  was  keen  to  be  the  one  to 
bring  him  in,  but  the  only  way  to  go  after  him  was 
on  horseback.  So  my  uncle  had  himself  tied  onto  an 
Indian  pony  with  a  rope,  and  he  brought  that  bear 
home." 

"You're  not  lyin',  .  .  just  to  cheer  me  up?"  Barry 
demanded,  weakening  in  his  rebellion. 

"No ;  it  happened  exactly  as  I  tell  you,"  she  replied. 
"If  you  will  pay  me  a  visit  at  my  home  in  America  some 
time,  I  will  show  you  the  pelt." 

From  that  moment  Barry  began  to  improve.  What 
one  man  could  do  was  not  impossible  for  another.  Lola 
spent  much  time  with  him  as  he  convalesced,  and  gained 
his  confidence.  He  told  her  of  his  hermit  life  in  Wy- 
oming, where  he  lived  in  a  cabin  in  the  hills,  taking  his 
pelts  to  market  twice  a  year.  His  father  had  been  a 
mechanic,  and  Lola  was  interested  in  the  description  of 
some  of  the  ingenious  devices  Barry  had  installed  in 
his  cabin  and  in  the  woods,  demonstrating  his  natural 
genius  in  following  the  parental  footsteps.  This  stood 
him  in  good  stead  when  he  offered  himself  for  war  ser- 
vice.   He  told  her  of  his  training  at  Kelly  Field,  of  his 

[41] 


THE    BALANCE 


transferral  over-seas  to  Issoudun,  of  his  disappointment 
in  having  his  service  confined  to  repair  work  and  trial 
flights  of  machines,  while  the  pilots  went  into  action 
against  the  beasts  of  the  air.  The  surliness  disappeared, 
and  before  he  was  well  enough  to  be  invalided  home 
Barry  O'Carolan  had  learned  how  to  give  out  from  him- 
self that  crude  philosophy  which  Nature  teaehes  only 
to  those  who  come  in  contact  with  her. 

Thus  it  was  that  Lola  extended  to  him  the  indefinite 
invitation  to  come  to  Norcross  "some  time,"  and  from 
the  Red  Cross  telegram  she  learned  that  he  remem- 
bered it. 

n 

So  Barry  O'Carolan  became  a  Norcrossian.  His  ar- 
rival attracted  little  attention,  but  he  rapidly  made 
himself  a  veritable  part  of  the  town.  Lola  installed 
him  in  simple  but  comfortable  quarters  in  an  outbuild- 
ing on  the  Stewart  estate,  and  here  the  family  shared 
with  her  the  responsibility  of  proving  to  her  ward  that 
life  was  still  worth  living.  The  discouragement  Barry 
felt  over  the  slowness  with  which  the  Government  met 
its  obligation  was  offset  by  the  interest  expressed  in 
him  by  his  new  friends.  Mr.  Stewart  suggested  that  a 
place  be  found  in  the  machine  shop  at  the  factory,  but 
Lola  explained  the  necessity  of  outdoor  work  for  a 
man  who  had  lived  all  his  life  in  the  open. 

Lola's  mother,  passionately  fond  of  her  flowers,  un- 
expectedly solved  the  problem  when  she  put  Barry  to 
work  in  the  garden.    A  fugitive  glimpse  of  Mrs.  Stew- 

[42] 


THE    BALANCE 


art,  as  she  puttered  over  her  flowers  with  her  protege 
beside  her,  might  leave  only  a  memory  of  a  very  active 
blue-and-white-checked  gingham  sunbonnet,  but  a 
glance  within  would  have  disclosed  a  face  which  in  sweet- 
ness challenged  any  blossoms  the  garden  produced. 
The  sparkle  still  remained  in  Mrs.  Stewart's  eye,  a  smile 
was  ever  on  her  lips.  Before  Lola  left  home  for  her 
war-work,  friends  spoke  of  her  as  a  younger  replica 
of  her  mother,  but  since  her  return  the  girl  seemed  the 
elder  of  the  two. 

At  first  Barry  was  half  ashamed  of  his  new  occupa- 
tion, and  Lola  observed  him  carefully  as  he  passed 
through  this  phase. 

"Think  of  me  shootin'  bugs  off  plants,  Miss  Lola,  in- 
stead of  big  game  up  Wind  River  or  Boches  in  France," 
he  said  to  her  one  day ;  but  under  Mrs.  Stewart's  skil- 
ful guidance  Barry  eagerly  absorbed  the  subtle  message 
which  flowers  express  to  understanding  souls.  His  life 
in  Wyoming,  with  Nature  as  his  sole  companion,  fitted 
him  to  comprehend,  for  the  language  of  the  flowers  is 
the  same  as  the  language  of  the  forests  and  the  hills. 

At  first  a  flower  was  a  flower  to  Barry,  the  only  dif- 
ference lying  in  its  shape,  color,  or  fragrance;  but 
Mrs.  Stewart  took  pains  to  weave  romance  in  with  the 
horticultural  knowledge  taught  him  by  the  old  gar- 
dener. Starting  in  with  the  Spring,  Barry,  with  his 
sympathetic  guide,  welcomed  the  drooping  snow-drops, 
the  daffodils,  and  the  timid  crocuses.  The  Winter  had 
been  a  trial  to  him,  not  only  for  the  limitations  it  placed 
upon  his  physical  activities,  but  because  it  was  the 
period  of  unhappy  experimentation,  now  fortunately 

[43] 


THE    BALANCE 


ended  by  Mrs.  Stewart's  inspiration.  These  first  blooms 
seemed  to  Barry  the  harbingers  of  a  new  life,  but  his 
discouragement  had  been  so  long  extended  that  he  was 
fearful  to  accept  anything  as  a  fact.  Mrs.  Stewart 
sensed  this,  and  she  gave  him  Holmes's  little  poem  to 
read: 

"When  wake  the  violets,  Winter  dies; 

When  sprout  the  elm  buds,  Spring  is  near; 
When  lilacs  blossom,  Summer  cries, 

'Bud,  little  roses,  Spring  is  here!'  " 

From  that  time  on  Barry  associated  his  own  life  with 
the  lives  of  the  flowers,  and  watched  eagerly  for  the 
violets  and  the  sprouting  of  the  elm  buds.  Seeing  his 
interest,  Mrs.  Stewart  taught  him  the  symbolism  of 
the  flowers,  and  gave  him  other  volumes  from  which  to 
learn  their  story.  Lola,  feeling  her  responsibility 
keenly,  was  at  first  worried  by  the  light  showing  late 
at  night  in  Barry's  quarters,  watching  it  from  the 
window  of  her  own  chamber.  When  she  spoke  to  him 
about  it,  cautioning  him  that  until  his  full  strength 
returned  his  rest  was  all-important,  Barry  plunged 
quickly  into  his  room  and  returned  with  an  armful  of 
books. 

"Look,  Miss  Lola!"  he  exclaimed  excitedly.  "Mis' 
Stewart  has  let  me  take  all  these,  and  I'm  readin'  'em 
through.  I  never  was  much  on  readin'  before  the  war, 
but  you  know  how  we  had  to  do  somethin'  there  to  kill 
time.  They  were  short  of  books,  so  one  day  the  library 
lady  tore  one  of  'em  up,  and  divided  it  among  us.  It 
was  written  by  a  highbrow  cuss  named  Carlyle.     Think 

[44] 


THE    BALANCE 


of  me  readin*  that  stuff!  But  I  had  to  do  somethin,' 
and  say  .  .  .  that  feller  had  some  real  ideas.  I  can 
remember  some  of  'em  now;  'What  have  you  done,  you 
son  of  a  gun?'  he  says.  'If  you've  got  happiness  or 
unhappiness,  why  that's  only  just  your  wages,  and 
you've  spent  that  in  payin'  for  your  chow,  .  .  you've 
eaten  it  all  up  by  this  time.  Now  how  about  your 
work  ?  Be  quick  and  trot  it  out.  Lets'  see  what  you've 
■really  done!'  .  .  Those  aren't  the  exact  words,  Miss 
Lola,  but  the  idea  is  somethin'  like  that." 

Barry's  quotation  was  not  clear  to  Lola,  but 
later,  in  her  father's  library,  her  search  was  re- 
warded: "Happiness,  unhappiness;  all  that  was  but 
the  wages  thou  hadst;  thou  hast  spent  all  that  in  sus- 
taining thyself  hitherward;  not  a  coin  of  it  remains 
with  thee,  it  is  all  spent,  eaten;  and  now  thy  work, 
where  is  thy  work?  Swift,  out  with  it;  let  us  see  thy 
work." 

Thomas  Carlyle  would  have  rejoiced  in  the  practical 
application  of  his  immortal  message ! 

Lola  watched  the  new  light  in  Barry's  eyes,  and  her 
thoughts  instinctively  went  back  to  those  hopeless  days 
in  the  hospital  when  she  struggled  to  give  him  an  inter- 
est in  life. 

"You  had  forgotten  that  when  you  didn't  want  us 
to  pull  you  through,"  she  reminded  him. 

"How  could  I  forget  somethin'  I  never  knew  before?" 
Barry  asked  sheepishly.  "I  didn't  even  get  that  feller's 
idea  'til  I  came  here.  What  had  I  done  anyhow?  Just 
shot  pelts  for  the  market,  sold  'em,  and  got  my  wages. 
Then  I  ate  the  wages  up,  just  as  that  feller  said.    Now 

[45] 


THE    BALANCE 


I'm  really  doin'  somethin'  more.  Your  mother  gave  me 
those  books  to  read,  .  .  and  say  .  .  .  every  flower  has 
a  story  of  its  own,  just  like  a  person.  Remember  how 
the  kids  used  to  tramp  down  this  garden?  They  don't 
do  it  now,  do  they?  I  caught  a  couple  of  'em  and  they 
thought  they  were  in  for  a  lickin',  but  I  took  'em  right 
up  to  the  violet-bed,  and  I  says,  "See  what  you've  done. 
Those  little  flowers  have  life  just  as  much  as  me  or  you.' 
Then  I  told  'em  the  story  about  how  Jupiter  made  the 
violet  to  feed  to  the  girl  his  wife  got  jealous  of  and 
changed  into  a  cow,  and  they  were  sure  interested. 
Now  they  come  'round  every  day  askin'  me  to  tell  'em 
stories,  and  I  have  to  read  these  books  your  mother 
gives  me  to  keep  ahead  of  'em." 

Barry's  eyes  twinkled  as  he  paused  for  a  moment. 

"You  ought  to  see  those  little  devils  weed  the  garden 
while  I  tell  'em  stories  about  the  flowers !" 

Ill 

So  the  blooms  in  the  garden  succeeded  one  another 
in  the  rotation  which  Nature  ordains,  but  the  bloom  in 
Barry's  heart  became  perennial,  crowding  out  the  bit- 
ter memories  of  severed  limb,  unintelligent  governmental 
paternalism,  and  a  hopeless  future.  Barry  O'Carolan 
became  a  Norcross  institution.  Whenever  he  would 
admit  the  children  to  the  garden  they  flocked  about 
him;  when  he  limped  to  the  post-office  they  flanked 
him  on  either  side,  and  Barry  thoroughly  enjoyed  their 
companionship.  Life  for  him  settled  down  into  a  satis- 
fying minor  key  in  which  all  the  chords  were  harmoni- 
ous.    If  he  was  aware  of  the  struggle  in  the  heart  of 

[46] 


THE    BALANCE 


his  benefactress,  he  gave  no  evidence  of  it;  if  Richard 
Norton's  restlessness  was  still  obsessive,  Barry  seemed 
blissfully  unconscious  of  it.  The  autocratic  old  man 
in  the  great  house  on  the  Hill  might  be  breaking  his 
heart  over  his  son's  rebellion  and  the  arrogance  of  his 
men;  the  workmen  in  the  Norton  factory  might  be 
seething  with  discontent  and  plotting  mischief,  .  .  but 
Barry  O'Carolan,  once  hunter  of  big  game  on  the  slopes 
of  the  Rockies,  now  hunted  contentment  and  philosophy 
among  the  gentle  flowers  which  were  his  daily  com- 
panions, and  in  the  "highbrow"  poems  which  great  writ- 
ers had  composed  to  the  glory  of  his  new-found  friends. 


[47] 


CHAPTER     V 


AUGUST  in  Norcross  can  be  appreciated  only  by 
those  who  have  experienced  it.  There  are  many 
families  who  still  consider  the  summer  exodus 
to  the  shore  essential  to  their  comfort  and  their  self-re- 
spect, but  in  Norcross  this  is  the  demand  of  habit 
rather  than  necessity.  The  Stewarts  had  long  since 
outgrown  the  conventional  summer-gadding  habit,  pre- 
ferring to  break  their  year  in  the  winter  season  by  trips 
to  California  or  Florida,  Italy  or  Southern  France. 
Even  the  continuous  residence  enforced  by  war  condi- 
tions did  not  prove  irksome  to  them ;  for  the  great  white 
blanket  Nature  spread  over  the  meadows,  and  the 
masses  of  hemlocks  and  cedars  weighted  with  glistening 
snow,  formed  a  picture  with  which  they  were  never 
satiated. 

When  once  the  business  section  of  the  town  is  left 
behind,  the  broad  meadows  spread  out  like  an  up-to-date 
Elysian  field,  with  the  single  difference  that  one  may 
wander  there  without  having  qualified  as  among  the 
blessed.  Still,  was  not  Menelaus,  with  all  his  glorious 
faults,  granted  place  beside  the  elect  because  he  was 
Helen's  husband  and  the  son-in-law  of  Zeus?     By  the 

[48] 


THE    BALANCE 


same  token  and  with  little  stretch  of  the  imagination 
we  may  understand  the  position  of  certain  Norcrossians 
because  of  the  beatific  attributes  of  their  better  halves, 
or  relationship  to  the  mighty  .  .  .  Beyond  the  mead- 
ows are  the  timberlands,  marking  by  gradual  ascent  the 
elevation  which  culminates  in  the  Blue  Hills,  and  the 
great  silver  splotch  dazzling  in  the  summer  sun  is 
East  Lake,  the  brilliancy  of  which  invites  one  to  seek 
its  sparkling  glories. 

n 

The  location  of  the  Stewart  house,  well  up  on  what 
Norcrossians  call  "The  Hill,"  affords  a. wonderful  pan- 
oramic view.  Here,  in  the  loggia,  in  the  late  August 
afternoons,  neighbors  and  other  friends  are  wont  to 
gather  for  tea  or  some  cooling  form  of  refresh- 
ment. On  these  occasions  William  Stewart  as  host  is 
at  his  best.  He  is  tall  and  handsome,  so  courtly  and 
courteous  that  people  call  him  "a  gentleman  of  the 
old  school."  His  quiet  demeanor  gives  one  the  false 
impression  that  he  is  impositive.  In  reality  this  does 
not  indicate  a  lack  of  energy,  but  rather  that  necessity 
has  taken  no  hand  in  his  making.  Mrs.  Stewart  and 
Lola  naturally  relieve  him  of  all  cares  of  home,  and 
he  has  formed  the  habit  of  letting  James  Norton  es- 
tablish his  business  policies.  This  leaves  him  leisure 
to  gratify  his  love  for  the  beautiful  in  arts  and  letters, 
accumulating  the  jewels  which  others  drop  in  his  lap, 
without  the  incentive  of  adding  even  a  thread  on  which 
to  string  them. 

On  this  particular  afternoon  Mr.  Stewart  is  discuss- 
[49] 


THE    BALANCE 


ing  Botticelli  and  Florentine  art  with  a  congenial  soul, 
while  Lola's  mother  explains  the  intricacies  of  a  new 
crochet  stitch  to  an  ambitious  caller.  Lola  has  pre- 
sided at  the  tea  table,  but  as  her  duties  for  the  time 
being  are  fulfilled  she  listens  patiently  to  the  running 
fire  of  small  talk,  in  which  gentle  art  William  Tread- 
way  is  an  adept.  Treadway,  James  Norton's  personal 
secretary,  is  tall  and  slight,  with  a  blonde  moustache 
which  must  cause  him  some  concern  as  he  is  constantly 
striving  with  his  fingers  to  weave  it  into  new  patterns. 
His  two  passions  in  life  are  power  and  Lola  Stewart. 
The  first  seems  possible  of  achievement,  for  energy  and 
persistence  will  never  be  denied ;  the  second  is  more  diffi- 
cult because  of  Richard  Norton.  But  Treadway  pos- 
sesses the  useful  attribute  of  patience. 

He  is  immaculate  today  in  his  golf  flannels  sitting 
next  to  Lola.  On  the  other  side  is  Richard  Norton. 
It  is  easy  to  understand  the  underlying  antagonism 
between  the  two  young  men,  .  .  even  on  the  surface 
it  is  ill-concealed.  Treadway  naturally  sympathizes 
with  the  master  on  all  points  of  difference  with  his  son ; 
Richard  considers  Treadway's  subtle  jealousy  as  re- 
sponsible for  much  of  the  discord  in  the  Norton  family. 
When  to  this  is  added  their  joint  admiration  for 
Lola,  the  ingredients  are  complete  for  constant 
fermentation. 

"If  I  stopped  smoking,"  Treadway  remarked  gazing 
contemplatively  at  his  half-consumed  cigarette,  "I 
shouldn't  know  what  in  the  world  to  do  with  my  face." 

"Some  smokers  don't  know  what  to  do  with  their 
faces  even  then,"  Richard  commented. 

[50] 


THE    BALANCE 


"No  intention  of  making  any  personal  application, 
I  hope,"  Lola  inquired,  holding  up  her  own  cigarette. 

"Not  at  all,"  he  hastened  to  explain.  "I  am  so 
afraid  Treadway  will  get  back  onto  his  hard-luck  golf 
stories  that  I  am  trying  to  encourage  him  to  talk  about 
something  interesting." 

"Oh,  I  say!"  Treadway  protested.  "Every  golfer 
has  to  talk  about  his  game  afterwards.  That's  its 
chief  attraction.  But  I  do  have  more  hard  luck  than 
anybody  else.  I  simply  can't  keep  the  ball  in  the  fair- 
green.  Why,  the  last  time  I  played,  when  I  finally  got 
out  of  the  long  grass,  the  chap  I  was  with  said, 
'Strangers  are  not  allowed  on  this  course !' " 

Lola  laughed,  but  Richard  continued  to  make  sport 
of  him.    He  was  impatient  to  have  Lola  to  himself. 

"Don't  you  care,  Treadway,"  he  railed  him ;  "nobody 
else  does." 

"It's  not  fair  for  people  to  josh  me  about  my  golf," 
Treadway  declared  feelingly,  .  .  "I  really  got  so 
little  chance  to  play.  When  I  figure  out  how  much 
each  game  costs  me,  I  am  aghast  at  the  extravagance 
of  my  club  expenses." 

"Figure  it  on  the  basis  of  strokes,  Treadway,  and 
it  will  make  it  look  cheap,"  Richard  retaliated. 

"Come,  boys,  be  reasonable,"  Lola  interfered.  "I'm 
tired  of  being  amused.  Tell  me  why  this  book  here  is 
having  such  a  success." 

She  help  up  the  novel  of  the  day,  which  she  had  laid 
down  when  her  callers  arrived. 

"I  can't  find  any  one  who  likes  it  any  better  than  I 
do,  yet  everybody  is  talking  about  it,"  she  added. 

[51] 


THE    BALANCE 


"Each  one  asks  the  other  how  he  likes  it,  and  each 
stalls  to  get  the  other's  expression  before  he  commits 
himself!"  Richard  laughed.     "That's  human  nature." 

"But  the  story  is  so  drab  .  .  .  realistic,  I'll  grant, 
but  the  scenes  it  records  so  photographically  and  the 
odors  it  revives  are  all  so  commonplace  and  unpleasant 
.  .  .  Why  do  people  want  to  read  about  such  things, 
anyway  ?" 

"Have  you  never  noticed  how  much  every  one  pre- 
fers to  talk  about  his  troubles  than  his  blessings?" 
Richard  explained  .  »  .  "like  Treadway,  telling  us 
about  his  golf  .  .  .  but,  seriously,  isn't  it  true?  .  . 
people  revel  in  conversation  which  is  pitifully  uninter- 
esting in  its  personalities  and  become  tongue-tied  when 
a  topic  of  general  interest  is  broached  .  .  .  You  didn't 
buy  that  book  because  you  expected  to  be  absorbed  by 
it,  but  because  you  weren't  willing  to  acknowledge 
again  that  you  hadn't  read  it,  .  .  come  now,  'fess  up !" 

"Yes,  .  .  I'll  plead  guilty,"  she  acknowledged 
frankly;  "but  in  this  case  I  really  thought  I  would 
learn  something.  After  an  every-day  over-the-teacup 
conversation,  I'm  willing  to  be  instructed." 

"That  puts  me  out  of  the  running,"  Treadway  ac- 
knowledged. "I  don't  believe  in  mixing  things.  My 
theory  of  life  is  to  concentrate,  .  .  work  while  I  work 
and  play  while  I  play.  This  is  my  play-time,  and  I 
refuse  to  assume  the  role  of  pedant." 

"You  are  joking,  I  know,"  Lola  answered  him  seri- 
ously ;  "but  I  have  noticed  how  definitely  you  lay  down 
your  rules  for  living.  Don't  you  sometimes  find  it 
difficult  to  keep  them  consistent?" 

[52] 


THE    BALANCE 


"Oh,  every  rule  has  to  have  its  exception,"  he 
answered  lightly,  her  recognition  of  his  purpose  obvi- 
ously pleasing  him.  "I  have  ambitions,  but  no  Ameri- 
can need  be  ashamed  to  admit  that.  I  intend  to  make 
my  mark  on  the  world  instead  of  letting  the  jolly  old 
world  make  its  mark  on  me.  Success  never  comes  hap- 
hazard, so  I  plan  everything  out.  Not  so  complicated, 
is  it?" 

Ill 

Mr.  Stewart's  listening  caller  had  received  his  fill 
of  Florentine  art  and  departed,  so  Lola's  father  joined 
the  group  of  young  people  in  time  to  hear  Treadway's 
explanation. 

"That  is  a  good  basis  for  any  American  to  work  on," 
Stewart  commented ;  "but  I  don't  quite  agree  with  you 
about  not  letting  the  world  make  its  mark  on  you. 
They  talk  about  Americans  being  born.  That  isn't 
so,  .  .  Americanism  is  a  thing  to  be  achieved  .  .  ." 

"By  action,"  Treadway  interrupted  with  confidence. 

"Not  wholly,"  Mr.  Stewart  corrected.  "That  is 
where  I  think  your  theory  a  bit  weak.  True  American- 
ism is  a  thing  of  the  mind,  .  .  the  result  of  thought 
and  experience  as  well  as  of  action.  And  when  one  has 
really  achieved  Americanism  he  need  not  fear  to  have 
the  world  make  its  mark  on  him,  for  it  will  be  the  hall- 
mark   of    approval." 

"That's  fine,  Mr.  Stewart !"  Richard  exclaimed.  "I 
wish  we  could  hear  you  talk  on  these  subjects  oftener. 
What  you  say  always  gives   us   an  inspiration." 

"Scarcely  that,"  Stewart  demurred;  "but  I  do  think 
[53] 


THE    BALANCE 


I  am  at  fault  to  spend  my  life  assimilating  instead  of 
giving  out.     It  is  a  selfish  habit." 

"My  daddy  selfish !"  Lola  cried  affectionately,  press- 
ing his  hand  to  her  cheek.  "Why,  I  never  could  think 
of  you  as  one  to  go  out  into  the  mercenary  world. 
You  seem  to  belong  right  here  in  this  frame.  There 
are  plenty  of  men  for  business,  and  who  shall  say  that 
your  dreaming  or  your  life  among  your  books  is  sel- 
fish? You  share  your  dreams  with  us  all,  daddy,  and 
that  helps  to  keep  us  true  to  our  ideals." 

"Ah,  child,"  her  father  answered,  kissing  her,  "you 
and  your  mother  spoil  me.     Dreams  and  books!  .  .  . 

"  'Dreams,  books,  are  each  a  world :  and  books  we  know, 
Are  a  substantial  world,  both  pure  and  good. 
Round  these,  with  tendrils  strong  as  flesh  and  blood, 
Our  pastime  and  our  happiness  will  grow.*  " 

As  the  older  man  left  them,  Treadway  rose. 

"I  thought  at  first  he  was  complimenting  me,  but  I 
really  believe  he  was  calling  me  down,"  he  said  half 
jocosely  and  half  in  pique.  "I  must  jog  along  now 
and  think  it  all  over  .  .  .  Coming,  Dick?" 

"Not  yet,"  Richard  answered;  "don't  wait  for  me." 

IV 

"Why  don't  you  like  Billy  Treadway?"  Lola  de- 
manded when  they  were  alone. 

"What  makes  you  think  I  don't  like  him?" 

Lola  laughed. 

"You  bristle  all  over  whenever  you're  with  him.  Why 
do  you  dislike  him?" 

[54] 


THE    BALANCE 


"If  I  have  myself  so  poorly  under  control  as  to 
expose  my  feelings  to  the  world,"  he  replied,  "I  must 
cultivate  restraint." 

"I  am  not  'the  world,'  Dick.  Perhaps  I  understand 
your  expressions  better  than  some  others." 

"You  are  all  the  world  to  me,  Lola,"  he  cried  im- 
pulsively, at  the  same  time  drawing  his  chair  beside 
hers  and  taking  her  hand.  "There  is  no  one  else  who 
understands  me  at  all  *  .  .  Do  you  know,  Lola,  if 
you  were  to  look  at  me  just  once  as  you  did  at  your 
father  a  moment  ago,  I'd  believe  there  was  some  chance 
of  wedding  bells." 

"You  silly  boy !"  Lola  scolded.  "We  aren't  children 
any  longer.  You  don't  want  merely  an  emotional  sweet- 
heart, do  you?" 

"You  weren't  so  terribly  matter-of-fact  before  I 
went  to  France." 

"We  were  scarcely  more  than  children,  Dick.  Then 
I  was  inexperienced  enough  to  believe  that  love  .  .  . 
our  love,  was  everything;  now  we  know  how  little  one's 
personal  affairs  count  in  the  scheme  of  things,  don't 
we?" 

She  paused  for  a  moment  and  looked  away  from  him. 
Then  she  turned  back. 

"What  a  revelation  we  have  had  since,  Dick!"  she 
exclaimed.  "We  were  boy  and  girl  before,  .  .  now 
we're  just  relics  of  the  war,  looking  at  the  world  through 
the  empty  rims  of  our  spectacles,  without  the  rose- 
tinted  glass.  I  haven't  the  desire  to  be  petted  or  kissed 
that  I  had  before,  .  .  I  admit  it;  but  oh,  Dick,  I  love 
you  a  thousand  times  more!" 

[55] 


THE    BALANCE 


"Then  why  don't  you  marry  me?"  he  demanded  for 
the  hundredth  time. 

"Because  now  I  couldn't  be  satised  with  the  Dick  you 
were  before  you  went  to  France  any  more  than  you 
could  be  content  with  the  aimless,  heartsick  girl  you  left 
behind.  Each  of  us  requires  more,  and  each  can  give 
more  to  the  other.  I  am  trying  to  make  myself  the 
woman  you  ought  to  marry;  you  must  make  yourself 
the  man  my  husband  must  be  if  he  is  to  hold  my  love." 

"Then  I  have  slipped  .  .  ." 

"Don't  be  hurt,  dear  .  .  .  You  haven't  slipped,  but 
you  don't  seem  to  feel  the  necessity  of  forcing  the  world 
about  you  to  recognize  what  your  development  has 
taught  you  .  .  .  Don't  let  what  I  say  discourage  you 
.  .  .  When  you  spoke  about  your  vision,  you  uncov- 
ered something  which  is  very  precious  to  me.  Turn 
that  vision  into  reality,  Dick!" 

"But  how?" 

"Ah!  That  is  the  test  .  .  .  but  you  can  meet  it! 
Daddy  would  tell  you  that  a  real  prophet  must  have 
voice  as  well  as  vision.  You  have  the  vision,  Dick,  and 
the  voice  will  come  to  you.  I  don't  ask  it  for  myself, 
or  for  you,  but  for  those  whom  we  are  pledged  to  serve. 
While  you  are  translating  your  ideals  into  action, 
I  have  as  much  to  accomplish  for  myself  and  with 
myself.  Can't  you  see,  dear!  Until  we  both  have 
proved  ourselves  true  to  what  the  war  taught  us,  we 
have  not  earned  the  right  to  think  of  ourselves." 

"I  try  to  be  patient,  Lola,"  he  answered  still  uncon- 
vinced; "but  I  can't  see  why  we  couldn't  do  all  that 
you  say  far  better  together  than  alone." 

[56] 


THE    BALANCE 


"We  first  must  prove  that  we  can  do  it  alone,  dear, 
as  a  guarantee  that  we  can  do  it  together.  Something 
has  been  given  to  you  that  has  been  denied  to  others. 
The  opportunity  is  here.  The  light  cast  by  your  vision, 
Dick,  shows  you  the  hitherto  concealed  entrance  from 
the  outside  of  the  world  to  its  very  core.  Other  men, 
who  came  home  from  France  with  the  spirit  but  without 
the  power  of  expressing  it,  call  upon  you  to  lead  them. 
It  is  a  call,  Dick,  that  you  can't  ignore." 

The  girl  was  fired  by  her  enthusiasm,  and  Richard 
looked  at  her  in  sincere  admiration.  Her  appeal  was 
irresistible,  her  words  brought  back  the  thrill  he  experi- 
enced at  Toul  when  the  veil  was  for  the  moment  lifted, 
and  he  saw  beyond.  Yes,  Lola  had  changed.  Yet  could 
he  question  her  love?  She  had  just  expressed  in  him 
unbounded  faith,  and  faith  surely  is  akin  to  love.  It 
was  such  a  moment  as  comes  but  rarely,  and  it  affected 
him  deeply. 

"There  was  only  one  Jeanne  d'Arc,  Lola,"  he  said 
feelingly;  "but  her  spirit  has  been  bequeathed  to  you. 
I  could  not  resist  it  even  if  I  wanted  to.  It  is  not 
a  question  of  desire,  but  of  ability.  I  will  try  to  hold 
fast,  but  I  fear  that  you  demand  more  than  I  have 
in  me." 

Lola's  face  lighted  with  pleasure. 

"Let  me  be  judge  of  that!  If  you  really  try,  you 
cannot  fail.  Now  kiss  me,  Dick,  not  merely  as  lovers 
kiss,  but  in  pledge  of  mutual  service  to  the  world  which 
will  entitle  us  later  to  our  own  personal  reward." 

Protected  by  the  dusk  into  which  the  lengthened 
shadows  merged,  he  held  her  a  prisoner  in  arms  which 

[57] 


THE    BALANCE 


had  no  thought  of  yielding.  But  presently  Lola  checked 
him.  Holding  him  off,  she  looked  full  into  his  eyes 
with  a  smile  of  happy  anticipation. 

"I  really  believe  you  understand  me!"  she  cried. 
"I've  been  afraid  you'd  think  I  was  demanding  too 
much,  dear.  But  you  do  understand,  don't  you? 
There  are  so  few  who  see  things  as  they  really  are  that 
our  responsibility  is  just  that  much  the  greater, 
isn't  it?" 

"Yes,  Lola,"  Richard  agreed.  "I'll  admit  all  that, 
but  still  I  don't  see  why  we  can't  kiss  each  other  with- 
out making  it  a  matter  of  ritual.  I  meant  exactly 
what  I  said  when  I  called  you  Jeanne  d'Arc," — he  held 
her  face  between  his  hands  as  he  completed  his  sentence 
with  marked  significance — "but  .  .  .  that  little  d'Arc 
girl  didn't  wear  her  armor  all  the  time !" 


[58] 


CHAPTER     VI 


WHILE  Lola  was  dressing  for  dinner  that  even- 
ing her  mother  came  into  the  room  and  care- 
fully adjusted  herself  in  the  great  arm-chair, 
The  slight  form  was  almost  lost  in  its  ample  recesses, 
but  Mrs.  Stewart  required  no  reinforcing  cushions  to 
hold  her  in  position  or  to  enable  her  to  preserve  her 
self-respect.  In  her  generation  girls  were  taught  to 
make  use  of  their  backbones  and  to  keep  both  feet  on 
the  ground,  and  her  early  education  became  a  habit.  A 
dainty  footstool,  it  must  be  admitted,  filled  in  the  space 
between  Mrs.  Stewart's  tiny  feet  and  the  floor,  but 
this  necessity  was  due  to  Nature's  selection  of  a  diminu- 
tive mold  in  fashioning  her  attractive  personality 
rather  than  to  any  lack  of  early  training. 

The  gown  Mrs.  Stewart  had  selected  this  even- 
ing was  organdie  of  purest  white,  but  scarcely 
more  so  than  her  hair,  prematurely  turned.  Her  face 
was  delicately  suffused  with  color,  her  skin  fair  and  fine 
in  texture,  showing  but  slightly  the  effect  of  her  daily 
association  with  the  garden ;  and  the  single  touch  other 
than  white  was  a  large  emerald  brooch,  a  family  heir- 
loom.    Sitting  as  she  was  in  the  great  arm-chair,  she 

[59] 


THE    BALANCE 


made  a  striking  picture  against  the  pink  chintz  which 
caused  her  daughter  to  regard  her  with  undisguised 
admiration. 

"Mother,  dear,  you  look  like  one  of  the  Madonna 
lilies,  transplanted  from  the  garden  to  my  chamber. 
Truly,  you  are  most  decorative !" 

Mrs.  Stewart  had  not  come  to  Lola's  room  to  be 
complimented,  and  her  daughter  knew  it.  Her  func- 
tions in  the  household  were  performed  quietly,  but  with 
a  regularity  and  directness  which  accomplished  results. 
Lola  was  fully  aware  before  her  mother  spoke  that  her 
presence  at  this  time  predicated  a  discussion  of  import- 
ance, and  during  the  process  of  adjustment  in  the  arm- 
chair she  wondered  what  the  subject  was  to  be. 

"I'm  troubled  about  Richard,"  Mrs.  Stewart  said 
bluntly,  after  acknowledging  her  daughter's  compliment 
with  a  smile  .  .  »  "He  doesn't  seem  himself  at  all.  Has 
anything  happened?" 

Lola  was  still  under  the  spell  of  the  conversation  she 
had  so  recently  had,  and  regretted  that  her  mother's 
question  had  not  been  postponed  in  the  asking.  Rich- 
ard had  seemed  to  be  impressed  by  what  she  had  said, 
but  could  he  make  the  application?  Until  she  knew, 
her  reply  must  be  indefinite. 

"We  are  still  engaged,  if  that  is  what  you  mean," 
she  said  at  length. 

"When  is  the  wedding  to  be?" 

"Neither  one  of  us  is  ready  to  be  married  yet,"  she 
evaded,  flushing  slightly  as  she  turned  back  to  the  mir- 
ror and  combed  her  hair.  "We  were  talking  it  over  only 
this  afternoon." 

[60] 


THE    BALANCE 


"Does  Richard  feel  as  you  do  about  it?" 

"Not  .  .  .  exactly,"  Lola  admitted.  "I'm  hoping 
that  he  understands  better  from  what  I  said  to  him  to- 
day. Dick  has  lost  faith  in  everything.  He  has  a 
wonderful  opportunity  before  him  to  accomplish  a 
great  work  if  he  can  be  made  to  see  it.  I  am  trying 
to  show  it  to  him." 

"Why  couldn't  you  guide  him  even  better  if  you  were 
married?" 

"That  is  what  Dick  asks,  .  .  but  I  know  that  I'm 
right.  He  came  home  with  wonderful  ideals,  and  then 
he  slumped.  If  we  were  married  now,  he  would  settle 
down  into  the  same  useless  routine  as  the  others,  and  all 
he  gained  would  be  lost.  If  I  can  make  him  see  his 
opportunity,  then  he  will  have  an  incentive.  Thus  far 
I  haven't  been  wholly  successful.  Until  then,  mother 
dear,  I'm  trying  to  be  the  little  wisp  of  hay  in  front 
of  him,  to  urge  him  on." 

Mrs.  Stewart  did  not  respond  to  the  lighter  tone  in 
which  the  girl  spoke  the  last  words. 

"You  are  trying  to  carry  the  responsibilities  of  the 
whole  world  on  your  shoulders  since  you  came  home," 
she  exclaimed,  making  no  effort  to  conceal  her  disap- 
proval. "You  are  mothering  every  ex-service  man  in 
Norcross,  you  are  sympathizing  with  all  their  family 
troubles,  you  are  worrying  over  their  sick  wives  and 
babies,  and  now  you  are  doing  the  thinking  for  Richard 
.  .  .  We  have  lost  the  daughter  we  used  to  have,  Lola, 
and  we  miss  her  sorely." 

"Am  I  so  different,  mother  dear?"  Lola  exclaimed. 

The  expression  Lola  surprised  on  her  mother's  face 
[61] 


THE    BALANCE 


as  she  turned  caused  her  to  lay  down  the  comb  and  perch 
herself  on  the  arm  of  the  great  chair. 

"I  didn't  realize  that  I  had  changed  so  much,"  she 
added. 

"Your  father  and  I  are  most  unhappy  about  it," 
Mrs.  Stewart  admitted.  "While  you  were  away  we 
were  sustained  by  a  certain  exhaltation.  Our  loneliness 
was  part  of  our  contribution,  and  was  partially  offset 
by  our  pride  in  the  splendid  work  you  were  doing.  Our 
hearts  have  been  hungry  for  you,  dear,  and  that  craving 
still  remains  unsatisfied.  The  daughter  who  went  away 
from  us  has  never  returned.  Richard  must  feel  it  too, 
and  that  may  be  one  reason  why  he  has  lost  faith." 

II 

Lola  could  not  answer  her  mother  at  once.  She  knew 
that  what  had  just  been  said  was  true.  How  could 
she  make  it  clear  that  the  change  which  had  taken 
place  was  simply  a  broadening  of  her  horizon?  Up 
to  the  time  when  she  left  for  her  work  Lola's  life  had 
been  completely  centered  in  home  and  parents;  now 
they  were  but  part  of  the  greater  life  which  she  saw 
before  her.  The  new  outlook  did  not  lessen  her  devo- 
tion to  them,  but  it  did  require  her  to  divide  her  alle- 
giance, and  this  was  what  her  mother  felt.  To  acknowl- 
edge the  fact,  or  to  attempt  to  explain  it  would  only 
cause  greater  unhappiness,  for  not  even  her  parents 
could  understand.  No  one  could  understand  who  had 
not  passed  through  the  fire. 

"Mother  dear,  I  didn't  realize  that  I  was  making 
[62] 


THE    BALANCE 


you  and  daddy  unhappy.  I  suppose  I  am  changed 
...  no  one  could  see  what  I've  seen  and  remain  the 
same.  But  my  love  for  my  dear  ones  .  .  .  for  you 
and  daddy  and  Dick  ...  is  greater  than  it  ever  could 
have  been  before  I  learned  what  love  really  means  in 
this  world  where  hatred  and  selfishness  hold  the  upper 
hand." 

"But,  my  child,  that  isn't  true,"  Mrs.  Stewart  pro- 
tested.    "The  Bible  teaches  .  .  ." 

"Dearie,"  Lola  interrupted  with  a  sigh,  "there  are 
hundreds  of  thousands  of  sweet,  good  people  like  you 
who  refuse  to  believe  this  because  they  don't  want  to 
believe  it;  but  until  the  fact  is  recognized  the  task  of 
fighting  it  is  made  more  difficult.  What  any  one  per- 
son can  do  is  so  insignificant  that  it  is  absolutely  dis- 
couraging. Take  my  work  with  the  disabled  boys 
here  ..." 

"You  are  spending  too  much  time  and  are  working 
too  hard  with  them,  Lola." 

"The  hard  part,  dear,  and  that  which  takes  the 
most  time,  is  occasioned  by  the  lack  of  co-operation 
and  appreciation  on  the  part  of  those  who  were  over- 
zealous  during  the  period  of  war  hysteria.  Why,  I 
can't  even  get  enough  motor  cars  to  take  my  disabled 
soldiers  riding,  when  before  there  were  more  cars  of- 
fered than  could  be  used!  It  is  simply  disheartening, 
mother,  and  this  apathy  triples  the  responsibilities 
of  those  who  still  realize  the  necessities." 

"But  do  you  have  to  do  it  all,  Lola?"  Mrs.  Stewart 
asked.  "Do  you  think  your  new  duties  relieve  you  of 
your  old  ones?     Your   father  and  I   aren't  disabled 

[63] 


THE    BALANCE 


soldiers,  but  our  hearts  are  wounded,  dear.     Perhaps 
Dick's  heart  is  hurt  a  little,  too." 

Ill 

Lola  felt  the  criticism,  and  her  first  reaction  was 
that  in  making  it  even  her  mother  was  touched  by  the 
epidemic  of  selfishness  which  contaminated  the  world. 
Perhaps  she  was  not  giving  to  her  parents  and  to 
Richard  the  former  undivided  affection,  but  they  needed 
it  so  much  less  than  these  helpless,  half-neglected  heroes 
who  had  so  freely  contributed  their  present  and  their 
future  to  save  humanity.  Of  course  her  mother  did 
not  realize  that  what  she  asked  was  selfish,  but  the  sum 
total  of  this  lack  of  realization  was  what  produced  the 
unhappy  condition. 

"Haven't  you  found  happiness  in  what  you  have  done 
for  Barry?"  she  asked. 

"Great  happiness,  my  child,  not  only  in  what  it  has 
meant  to  him  but  also  in  the  joy  I  have  seen  come  to 
you  to  have  me  do  it.  I  rejoice  in  this  opportunity  to 
work  with  you,  even  in  a  small  way,  and  I  wish  I  might 
do  more.  But,  Lola  dear,  I  should  consider  myself  to 
blame  if  I  permitted  my  new  responsibilities  to  make 
me  forget  my  old  ones.  I  wouldn't  have  you  give  up 
your  work.  Just  keep  it  within  reason,  and  remember 
that  you  can't  do  it  all  yourself." 

Lola  rose  wearily  and  seated  herself  disconsolately 
in  a  near-by  chair.  Mrs.  Stewart  watched  her 
anxiously,  fearing  lest  she  had  said  too  much,  yet  con- 
vinced that  her  daughter  needed  another  viewpoint  for 
her  own  good. 

[64] 


THE    BALANCE 


"Other  girls  who  went  to  France  have  returned  and 
taken  up  their  lives  just  where  they  left  them,"  Mrs. 
Stewart  suggested. 

"I  know  it,  mother  dear,"  Lola  admitted,  "and  some- 
time I  wish  I  were  like  them.  A  lot  of  the  girls  went 
over  there  because  they  craved  adventure.  Some  of 
them  did  their  work  well,  and  all  were  satisfied.  There 
were  others  who  went  because  they  simply  had  to  do 
something,  and  in  doing  for  others  found  greater  per- 
sonal happiness  than  they  had  ever  known.  That  is 
true  of  me,  dearie.  I  should  be  miserably  unhappy  to 
cease  doing  now,  when  the  necessity  for  service  is  so 
much  greater  than  ever  before." 

"Yet  I  have  never  seen  you  so  wretched  as  since  you 
returned." 

"Doesn't  the  one  go  with  the  other,  dear  ?  We  can't 
reach  the  heights  without  touching  the  depths,  can  we  ? 
I'm  not  choosing  the  suffering  and  the  despair.  It  just 
comes  as  a  payment  I  have  to  make  for  the  real  hap- 
piness I've  experienced  in  being  able  to  do  something 
for  others." 

Mrs.  Stewart  was  deeply  impressed  by  Lola's  words. 
For  the  first  time  since  her  daughter's  return  she  had 
been  permitted  to  enter  the  inner  shrine,  and  what  she 
saw  there  was  inexpressibly  beautiful.  She  closed  her 
eyes  for  a  moment  and  thanked  God  for  this  child 
of  hers,  and  when  she  opened  them  again  they  were 
filled  with  tears.  She  rose  quietly,  and  putting  her 
arms  around  Lola's  neck,  kissed  her  affectionately. 

"I  never  realized  before  how  deeply  you  felt  it,"  she 
whispered.     "It  seemed  to  me  that  it  was  over-zealous 

[65] 


THE    BALANCE 


devotion  to  a  fetish,  but  perhaps  I  am  wrong.  Your 
happiness,  dear  child,  is  all  that  your  father  and  I 
live  for,  and  if  it  lies  in  this  direction,  we  must  try  to 
help  you." 

"Oh,  mother  darling!"  the  girl  cried,  "you  don't 
know  what  it  would  mean  to  me  if  you  could  only 
understand !  I  have  realized  all  the  time  that  you  were 
waiting  for  me  to  lay  aside  my  work  as  I  do  my  golf- 
sticks  after  the  game  is  finished.  This  isn't  a  game, 
dear,  .  »  it  is  the  real  thing.  It  is  life  itself  and  will 
never  be  finished.  I  don't  mean  to  neglect  my  old  re- 
sponsibilities except  so  far  as  the  new  ones  are  more 
vitally  important.  I  don't  mean  to  try  to  do  it  all. 
If  you  and  daddy  and  my  real  friends  would  only  un- 
derstand this  and  help  me,  it  would  make  it  so  much 
easier." 

"Perhaps  I  am  thinking  too  much  of  ourselves  and 
of  you,"  Mrs.  Stewart  admitted.  "Now  that  the  awful 
tragedy  is  over,  it  is  natural  that  we  should  be  eager 
to  forget  it  and  take  up  our  lives  again  as  if  nothing 
had  happened." 

IV 

Lola  turned  from  her  mother  with  a  sigh  of  disap- 
pointment. As  if  nothing  had  happened!  This  from 
her  own  sweet,  sympathetic,  usually-comprehending 
mother!  It  was  hopeless.  No  one  except  those  who 
had  seen  the  awful  crucible  of  war  could  understand. 
For  years  to  come  curious  tourists  would  cross  the 
ocean  to  gaze  at  martyred  towns  in  devastated  France, 

[66] 


THE    BALANCE 


while  their  eyes  refused  to  see  the  shattered  bodies  and 
the  smouldering  ashes  in  the  souls  of  those  about  them 
who  risked  their  lives  for  something  which  they  failed 
to  find! 


[67] 


CHAPTER     VII 


BARRY  O'CAROLAN,  outwardly  the  most  seri- 
ously affected  by  the  toll  of  war,  was  in  reality 
the  only  Norcrossian  undisturbed  by  the  gath- 
ering of  the  storm  clouds  in  the  hitherto  peaceful  New 
England  village.  Perhaps  this  was  because  he  instinc- 
tively realized  that  the  worst  that  could  befall  him  had 
happened,  and  his  agony  of  suspense  was  ended.  At  all 
events,  the  world  looked  good  to  him,  and  the  peace 
which  came  to  his  once-troubled  spirit  expressed  itself 
in  his  ever-present  smile  and  contagious  optimism. 
His  quick  intelligence  enabled  him  to  expand  even  as 
the  flowers  in  the  Stewart  garden ;  but  the  development 
came  so  gradually  that  those  around  him  scarcely  re- 
alized how  great  the  change  until  it  had  actually  taken 
place,  accepting  without  comment  or  surprise  the  evi- 
dences  of  the  transition. 

Except  for  the  war,  Barry  would  have  remained  a 
hunter  of  big  game,  his  inward  craving  satisfied  by  com- 
munion with  the  vastness  of  Nature  around  him;  now, 
in  his  new  environment,  he  found  in  human  companion- 
ship a  stimulus  previously  denied  him,  and  an  intel- 
lectual comradeship  in  the  books  to  which  Mrs.  Stewart 

[68] 


THE    BALANCE 


introduced  him,  which  forced  him  to  apply  as  well  as 
to  absorb.  What  Barry  O'Carolan  had  lacked  in  com- 
radeship in  the  wilderness  had  been  made  up  to  him  in 
the  acute  development  of  his  mental  faculties  in  match- 
ing them  against  the  cunning  of  the  beasts  upon  the 
mastery  of  which  his  livelihood  depended.  Guidance 
and  opportunity  alone  were  needed  to  bring  his  real 
self  to  the  surface.  Mrs.  Stewart  and  Lola  both  en- 
joyed his  unrestrained  happiness,  and  marveled  at  oc- 
casional outbursts  which  showed  an  unconsciously  de- 
veloping poetic  phase.  In  short,  Barry  had  lost  his 
leg  but  found  his  soul.  His  new  friends  gave  full  credit 
to  the  flowers  for  that. 

II 

One  morning,  as  was  frequently  their  habit,  all  three 
were  working  together  in  the  garden,  transplanting 
some  of  the  younger  rose  bushes  to  form  a  richer  mass 
of  color.  There  was  always  a  running  conversation, 
started  or  encouraged  by  Mrs.  Stewart  or  Lola,  in 
which  Barry's  part  was  quaint  and  optimistic,  but  fre- 
quently unexpected. 

"Do  you  miss  the  old  life,  Barry?"  Lola  asked  him; 
"do  you  ever  long  to  get  back  to  your  cabin  in  the  hills 
where  other  people  can't  disturb  you?" 

"For  a  long  time  I  thought  I  did,"  he  admitted; 
"then  I  came  to  know  I  couldn't  stand  the  solitude." 

"That  is  what  I  should  find  most  grateful,"  Lola 
declared. 

"I  used  to  think  so  myself,  Miss  Lola ;  that  was  why 
I  stuck  to  big  game  huntin'  .  .  .  nobody  to  interfere 

[69] 


THE    BALANCE 


with  my  thoughts,  nothin'  to  break  the  silence  of  the 
mountains  but  the  echoes.  But  that  was  before  I  went 
up  in  an  areoplane." 

Barry  always  pronounced  this  last  word  with  the 
two  letters  transposed.  His  listeners  failed  to  grasp 
the  significance  of  his  expression. 

"You  never  know  how  terrifyin'  solitude  is  'til  you 
get  up  in  the  air,"  he  explained,  .  .  "it  is  so  empty  and 
lonesome  and  still.    Why,  it  doesn't  even  breathe !" 

Both  his  hearers  were  surprised. 

"I  thought  an  aeroplane  was  the  noisiest  place  in 
the  world,"  Mrs.  Stewart  commented. 

"The  engine?  .  .  .  sure,"  Barry  admitted;  "but  I 
mean  the  air  itself.  The  whir  of  the  motor  and  the 
roar  of  the  exhaust  make  a  terrific  racket,  of  course, 
but  this  becomes  so  monotonous  that  you  get  used 
to  it  .  .  .  it's  the  solitude  that  really  catches  you. 
Even  when  you're  goin'  a  hundred  miles  an  hour  it 
seems  like  you  were  standin'  plumb  still  .  .  .  you  don't 
go  by  any  thin',  .  .  just  keep  your  bearin's  by  a  river, 
or  a  railroad,  or  somethin'  like  that." 

Barry  stopped  work  for  a  moment  and  leaned  against 
his  spade,  his  eyes  looking  off  into  the  distance  beyond. 

"I  used  to  think  the  desert  was  the  lonesomest  place 
in  the  world,"  he  continued,  "but  it's  not  a  patch  on  the 
air.  Sometimes  it's  nothin'  but  clouds,  oceans  of  'em, 
and  it  seems  as  if  the  wheels  were  runnin'  along  on  the 
cloud-bank.  At  first  the  beauty  of  it  gets  you,  .  .  . 
then  it  turns  to  loneliness  and  makes  you  shiver." 

Barry  paused  again.  Then  he  turned  to  Mrs.  Stew- 
art. 

[70] 


THE    BALANCE 


"Do  you  believe  that  the  soul  goes  up  into  that 
silence,  Mis'   Stewart,  when  we  die?" 

"That  is  what  the  Bible  teaches  us,"  she  assured 
him.     "Isn't  it  a  blessed  thought  to  you,  Barry?" 

He  hesitated  lest  he  hurt  her  feelings.  Barry  had 
lived  among  these  people  long  enough  now  to  realize 
how  insistent  was  their  New  England  conscience  upon 
a  literal  acceptance  of  the  Bible. 

"I'm  not  sure,"  he  finally  admitted.  "I  have  a  feelin' 
my  soul  would  shiver  all  over  just  as  I  did  if  it  went 
up  into  that  awful  solitude  .  .  .  Do  you  think  it  would 
be  goin'  against  the  Bible  if  I  said  I'd  rather  have  my 
soul  stay  down  here  in  the  warm  earth  with  my  body 
and  these  roots  and  flowers?  I  think  I'd  rather  do  that 
if  it  don't  make  you  folks  unhappy  to  have  me  say  so." 

"I  don't  suppose  it  makes  much  difference  what  we 
want,  Barry,"  Mrs.  Stewart  replied  kindly.  "The 
good  Lord  knows  best  what  to  do  with  our  souls,  and 
all  our  planning  won't  change  it.  But  whatever  it  is 
.  .  ."  she  smiled  up  into  his  face  in  her  motherly  way, 
which  always  brought  a  lump  in  his  throat,  .  .  "what- 
ever it  is,  Barry,  you  may  be  perfectly  sure  that  there 
will  be  no  shivering  and  no  lonesomeness." 

"Of  course  you're  right,  Mis'  Stewart,"  Barry  stam- 
mered, abashed  that  he  had  exposed  so  intimate  a 
thought.  "You  folks  know  how  much  I  love  these  flow- 
ers, and  it  sort  of  pleased  me  to  think  that  some  day 
p'raps  I  could  be  a  part  of  'em.  Flowers  are  different 
from  people,  .  .  they  just  give  you  all  there  is  of  them- 
selves without  your  askin.'  I  suppose  that's  their  way 
of  sayin'  'thank  you'  for  keepin'  the  weeds  from  chokin' 

[71] 


THE    BALANCE 


'em.  P'raps,  .  .  ."  Barry  had  a  sudden  inspiration 
.  .  .  "p'raps  people  would  do  that  if  they  were  treated 
the  same  way.  There  sure  are  a  lot  of  human  weeds  in 
this  world,  and  it  would  be  a  tough  job  to  get  rid 
of  'em." 

"I  presume,  Barry,  if  it  hadn't  been  for  your  acci- 
dent, you  would  have  made  aviation  your  work,"  Mrs. 
Stewart  remarked. 

"No  .  .  .  ma'am!"  was  the  emphatic  response. 

Noting  the  surprise  on  the  faces  of  both,  Barry  ex- 
plained. 

"I  suppose  I  ought  to  be  ashamed,  but  I  never  went 
up  in  a  plane  without  bein'  scared.  You  see  I  did  a 
good  bit  of  flyin',  and  I  know  the  danger.  I  never  shied 
at  goin'  up,  for  that  was  my  job,  and  I  always  did  the 
best  I  knew  how,  but  never  again  for  me  .  .  .  from 
choice." 

As  Barry  moved  away  to  bring  a  barrow-load  of  new 
soil,  Mrs.  Stewart  turned  to  Lola. 

"What  Barry  just  said  confirms  what  you  have  told 
me  about  the  boys  over  there.  His  frank  admission  of 
fear  is  peculiarly  enlightening.  The  spirit  of  adven- 
ture which  at  first  sustained  him  disappeared  when 
he  learned  by  experience  how  real  the  dangers  were, 
,  .  .  yet  he  met  them  without  hesitation  whenever  duty 
called  him." 

"Truly,  it  was  splendid!"  Lola's  face  lighted  as 
the  conversation  recalled  those  gloriously  terrible  days. 
"Some  of  the  boys  were  fatalists,  others  risked  their 
lives  almost  needlessly  through  the  sheer  thrill  of  dan- 
ger, but  there  were  many  who,  like  Barry,  faced  death 

[72] 


THE    BALANCE 


with  fear  in  their  hearts  but  with  determination  in  their 
souls  to  conquer  it." 

"This  war  has  given  us  a  new  standard  of  heroism," 
Mrs.  Stewart  added  feelingly.  "We  had  been  taught 
that  when  Leonidas  and  his  little  band  of  Spartans  at 
Thermopylae  cast  themselves  headlong  on  the  thou- 
sands of  Persian  invaders  it  was  the  most  sublime  act 
of  heroism  in  all  history.  But  the  Spartans  knew  the 
dangers  they  faced,  and  met  death  with  an  exhaltation 
which  was  adequate  compensation  .  .  .  But  what  of 
that  courage  which  faces  a  danger  the  presence  of 
which  is  known  but  whose  nature  is  an  awesome  mystery ! 
That  is  what  our  boys  did!" 

Ill 

Barry  smoothed  the  earth  around  the  last  bush,  and 
Mrs.  Stewart  turned  back  toward  the  house.  As  he 
straightened  up  he  looked  full  into  the  girl's  face  and 
surprised  there  an  expression  she  ever  sought  to  con- 
ceal. 

"Miss  Lola !"  he  exclaimed  impulsively,  "please  don't 
look  like  that.  It's  not  right  for  me  to  be  happy  and 
contented  when  you  are  lookin'  like  a  wounded  doe." 

"It's  all  right,  Barry,"  Lola  replied  quickly,  sur- 
prised at  this  first  intrusion  by  her  protege  into  her  per- 
sonal affairs.  "I  can't  seem  to  settle  down  since  I  came 
home." 

Barry  looked  at  her  attentively.  The  girl  saw  his 
hesitation  and  she  might  have  stopped  him  with  a  word, 
but  somehow  Barry's  interest  did  not  seem  an  intru- 

[73] 


THE    BALANCE 


sion.  She  had  given  herself  to  him  beyond  any  other 
experience  in  her  life.  He  had  accepted  it  always  in 
the  spirit  in  which  it  was  offered;  and  during  these 
months  they  could  not  fail  to  come  to  an  instinctive 
understanding  of  each  other's  inmost  feelings.  She 
knew  what  he  was  going  to  say  unless  she  checked  him. 
She  would  have  given  worlds  not  to  have  it  put  into 
words,  yet  she  stood  there  waiting  for  the  undesired  to 
happen. 

Gaining  courage  by  her  silence  Barry  spoke. 

"It's  not  that,  Miss  Lola,  and  we  both  know  it  isn't, 
.  .  .  but  I'll  tell  you  that  it's  all  goin'  to  come  out 
right." 

"You  don't  understand,  Barry,"  she  faltered  weakly, 
with  difficulty  holding  back  the  tears. 

"Yes,  I  do,"  he  insisted;  "and  now  it's  my  turn  to 
tell  you  to  buck  up  as  you  told  me  in  the  hospital." 

"I  can't  bear  to  lose  this  opportunity  to  make  my  ser- 
vice count !" 

"You're  not  goin'  to  lose  anythin',  Miss  Lola.  Hon- 
est, you're  not.  You  and  I  know  that  the  Capt'n 
is  one  of  the  finest  fellers  that  ever  lived,  and  now  he's 
just  driftin',  that's  all.  He'll  get  his  feet  on  the  ground 
pretty  soon  and  everythin'  will  be  better  than  ever. 
Now  don't  you  worry.  You  be  patient,  just  as  you 
used  to  tell  me,  and  I'll  say  everythin'll  come  out  all 
right." 

"I  am  worried  about  Mr.  Richard,"  Lola  admitted. 
"I  have  been  afraid  that  he  had  become  so  discouraged 
that  he  would  give  up.  I'm  trying  to  hold  him  true 
to  himself.     It  would  be  an  awful  pity  if  he  gave  up, 

[74] 


THE    BALANCE 


wouldn't  it,  Barry?  You  and  I  know  how  much  men 
like  Mr.  Richard  are  needed." 

"He  won't  quit,  Miss  Lola,"  Barry  insisted.  "You 
can  tell  that  by  his  face.  Men  are  just  like  animals. 
When  I  was  huntin'  big  game  I  could  tell  just  how  any 
critter  was  goin'  to  behave  as  soon  as  I  could  get  my 
eye  on  his  face.  Some  of  'em  were  tricky  and  some  of 
'em  hadn't  any  spunk.  The  rest  of  'em  might  fight  hard 
but  they'd  fight  fair  and  never  quit.  The  Capt'n's  face 
is  all  right,  Miss  Lola.  He  may  get  terrible  discour- 
aged before  he  strikes  his  gait,  but  I'll  say  he'll  never 
lie  down." 

"You're  lucky,  Barry,  to  be  able  to  get  away  from 
your  war-self,"  she  told  him,  eager  to  turn  the  conver- 
sation. "You  are  the  only  one  of  the  boys  who  have 
been  over-seas  who  seems  contented." 

Barry  sobered. 

"If  that's  true,  Miss  Lola,  it's  you  who  has  done  it 
for  me.  That's  why  I'd  like  to  be  the  one  to  make 
things  right  for  you.  Over  there,  we  fellers  got  to 
look  for  things  to  be  better  than  they  were  before. 
They  are  better  for  me,  but  with  the  other  boys  they're 
worse.  I  am  luckier  than  the  others.  You  see,  I  got 
in  the  habit  of  lookin'  at  things  from  the  air,  and 
somehow  an  areoplane  view  is  mighty  different  from  a 
ground  view.  The  other  fellers  keep  on  lookin'  for  more 
and  they're  findin'  less.  That's  what  keeps  'em  upset. 
I'm  sure  mighty  grateful  for  what  you've  done  for  me, 
Miss  Lola." 

"You've  done  it  for  yourself,"  she  protested,  "and 
you're  doing  much  for  all  of  us  in  setting  an  example 

[75] 


THE    BALANCE 


of  how  we  ought  to  think.  We  are  looking  for  so  much 
that  we  find  less  than  there  really  is." 

"I  believe  you're  right,"  Barry  assented  eagerly, 
as  if  the  idea  had  been  Lola's  own,  "and  even  if  you're 
wrong,  that's  a  grand  way  to  look  at  things.  Some 
of  'em  couldn't  do  that,  Miss  Lola,  but  you  can,  and 
I'd  enjoy  my  contentment  a  whole  lot  better  if  you 
were  happy  too.  Just  thinkin'  the  way  you  said  would 
help  a  lot,  wouldn't  it?" 

"It  would,  Barry,"  she  agreed  without  reserve ;  "and 
I  will  put  your  advice  right  into  operation.  From  now 
on  I'm  going  to  take  an  air-plane  view  of  everything! 
See  .  .  ."  she  smiled  happily  .  .  .  "I'm  feeling  more 
like  myself  already.  I'll  be  ashamed  to  mope  around 
any  more  while  you  are  so  cheerful.  By  believing  that 
everything  is  all  right,  we  can  make  it  so.  And  Barry 
...  do  you  realize  how  much  more  you  have  gained 
than  you  have  lost?" 

The  change  in  the  line  of  thought  was  too  abrupt 
for  him  to  follow,  and  he  showed  his  perplexity  in  his 
face. 

"You  lost  a  leg,"  she  said  significantly,  .  .  "what 
have  you  gained?" 

"Oh,  that!"  Barry  laughed  aloud.  "Why,  Miss 
Lola,  I  understand  what  you  mean,  ...  it  might  have 
been  my  eyes,  so  I  couldn't  see  these  flowers,  or  my  nose, 
so  I  couldn't  smell  'em  ...  I  understand.  Shucks ! 
What's  an  old  leg  compared  with  my  findin'  you?" 


[76] 


THE    BALANCE 


IV 

As  Lola  returned  to  the  house  her  mind  centered  on 
what  her  protege  had  just  said.  Unconsciously  he 
had  uncovered  a  fundamental  .  .  .  it  is  the  ground  view 
which  limits  the  vision  of  the  world  to  its  own  narrow, 
selfish  horizon.  Until  the  outlook  can  be  from  above, 
the  development  of  peoples  and  of  nations  must  stand 
still. 


[77] 


CHAPTER     VIII 


HOW  often  we  conscientiously  believe  ourselves 
at  variance  with  the  judgment  of  others  yet, 
when  the  test  comes,  prove  by  our  action  that 
this  apparent  difference  in  opinion  is  superficial  rather 
than  basic !  It  is  usually  the  conflict  between  the  head 
and  the  heart  crowding  us  into  a  corner,  from  which 
coign  of  disadvantage  the  heart  looks  out  with  crooked 
eyes! 

Richard  had  declared  to  Lola  that  his  idealism  had 
been  shown  to  be  so  thoroughly  impractical  that  he 
had  discarded  it;  that  as  he  could  not  change  the 
world's  attitude  he  must  accept  its  standard,  false 
though  he  knew  it  to  be.  When  he  was  called  upon  to 
accept  as  fact  that  which  he  declared  inevitable,  Lola's 
prescience  proved  keener  than  his ! 

It  was  his  father  who  forced  it.  As  the  days  passed, 
the  relations  between  the  two  became  more  and  more 
intolerable.  James  Norton  knew  that  the  labor  cauld- 
ron was  seething,  and  endeavored  to  secure  through 
Richard  information  as  to  its  nature.  This  Richard 
steadfastly  refused  to  give. 

"Take  your  choice,  my  boy,  and  take  it  now,"  the 
[78] 


THE    BALANCE 


older  man  finally  said.  "If  I've  got  to  fight  against 
my  own  flesh  and  blood,  the  sooner  I  know  it  the  better. 
If  you  are  going  to  side  with  the  men,  then  you  are 
against  the  Company  and  me.  You  can't  carry  water 
on  both  shoulders.     Which  side  do  you  take?" 

Richard  could  not  fail  to  detect  the  underlying  note 
of  appeal  in  his  father's  voice,  domineering  as  it  was, 
nor  could  he  fail  to  realize  that  all  future  relations 
between  them  depended  upon  his  answer.  In  the  sec- 
onds of  tense  silence  which  followed  the  question,  it 
seemed  to  him  as  if  the  events  of  his  life  thus  far,  as 
between  his  father  and  himself,  marshalled  themselves 
in  a  vivid  series  of  unforgetable  pictures. 

II 

There  was  his  first  and  only  physical  punishment  for 
some  act  of  childish  disobedience,  when  his  mother's 
flashing  eyes  belied  the  calm  firmness  with  which  she 
held  his  angry  father  at  bay  and  left  so  strong  an  im- 
pression that  James  Norton  never  again  laid  hands 
upon  his  son.  There  was  that  ever-present  loneliness 
which  every  child  inevitably  feels  when  a  parent  is  too 
preoccupied  by  other  duties  to  give  of  himself  in  the 
thousand  and  one  little  ways  in  which  youth  takes  de- 
light. There  were  the  constant  verbal  castigations 
which  seared  their  marks  upon  the  developing  and  sen- 
sitive negative  of  the  growing  boy's  mind  and  heart. 
Into  this  brief  moment  of  introspection  came  two  fleet- 
ing memories  which  had  contained  elements  of  hope. 
One  was  the  tragic  moment  after  his  mother's  funeral, 
ten  years  before,  when  he  and  his  father  returned  alone 

[79] 


THE    BALANCE 


to  the  great  empty  house.  For  the  first  time  in  his  life 
the  older  man  threw  his  arms  about  his  son  and  drew 
the  boy  to  him. 

"You  are  all  I  have  left,"  he  said  brokenly,  .  .  "you 
must  never  disappoint  me." 

Richard  had  great  expectations  from  that  spontane- 
ous expression  of  feeling ;  but,  as  the  weeks  and  months 
went  by,  his  father  found  the  relief  from  his  loneliness 
in  longer  business  hours  and  more  intense  at>rjlication 
to  his  work  rather  than  in  his  son.  Neither  father 
nor  son  knew  how  to  break  down  the  intangible  barrier 
between  them,  and  the  pregnant  moment  passed,  leav- 
ing each  thrown  more  than  ever  upon  his  own  resources. 

The  unhappy  curve  of  Richard's  life  took  the  second 
turn  upward  when  he  left  for  France.  For  the  first  time 
his  father  seemed  pleased  and  gratified  by  an  act  of 
the  boy's  own  volition,  and  showed  a  pride  in  him  which 
raised  hopes  upon  which  Richard  lived  during  those 
long  months.  He  was  certain  that  this  time,  when  he 
returned,  his  father  would  treat  him  as  a  man,  and 
that  the  great  house  would  be  robbed  of  its  emptiness 
by  the  companionship  each  would  give  the  other.  But 
Richard  had  not  been  home  twenty-four  hours  before 
he  realized  that  he  had  again  proved  himself  a  disap- 
pointment, even  though  he  could  not  discover  in  what 
way  he  had  fallen  short  of  expectations;  and  as  time 
went  on  there  came  an  absolute  conviction  that  he  could 
never  find  in  his  father  nor  could  he  give  that  which 
each  sought  and  craved.  Now,  in  the  question  his 
father  put  to  him,  Richard  saw  the  final  breach  which 
would  destroy  even  the  semblance  of  amicable  relations. 

[80] 


THE    BALANCE 


III 

"Don't  put  it  that  way,  father,"  Richard  begged. 
"I  have  never  been  disloyal  to  you  or  to  the  Company. 
What  I  urge  for  the  men  is  of  equal  importance  to  the 
business,  only  you  can't  see  it  that  way.  There  is  no 
reason  why  the  Company  should  be  against  the  men 
or  the  men  against  the  Company.  The  interests  are 
identical,  and  knowing  both  sides  better  than  any  one 
else  ought  to  make  me  of  even  greater  value  to  you." 

"It  would,  if  you  were  willing  to  use  your  knowledge 
for  my  benefit;  but  you  won't  tell  me  what  the  men's 
plans  are." 

"Nor  will  I  tell  the  men  what  your  plans  are.  You 
wouldn't  have  me  yellow  either  way,  would  you?" 

"You're  paid  by  the  Company  .  .  ." 

"Not  to  spy  on  the  men." 

"You're  paid  to  do  as  you're  told,  and  I've  told  you 
to  find  out  what  the  men  plan  to  do,  so  that  we  can  head 
them  off." 

Richard  was  silent. 

"You  still  refuse?" 

"Why  don't  you  let  the  men  appoint  a  committee  and 
lay  the  situation  squarely  before  them?  They  can't 
believe  that  things  have  turned  as  you  and  I  know 
they  have,  but  they  would  believe  it  if  you  showed  them 
that  bunch  of  cancelations  and  let  them  see  how  our 
inventories  have  dropped.  Then  listen  to  what  they 
have  to  say  on  their  side  .  .  .  That's  all  I  ask." 

"You'd  have  me  treat  them  as  partners,  I  suppose," 
Norton  retorted. 

[81] 


THE    BALANCE 


"They  are  partners.  They  always  have  been,  and 
they  are  entitled  to  your  confidence." 

"Why  not  turn  the  business  over  to  them  and  be  done 
with  it?  If  you  are  going  to  preach  sovietism  you 
might  as  well  go  the  whole  hog." 

"Please,  father,"  Richard  implored.  "You  know 
I'm  no  bolshevist.  This  means  more  to  me  than  any- 
thing that  has  ever  come  into  my  life.  I  have  lived 
a  century  these  last  two  years,  and  I  have  been  face 
to  face  with  conditions  which  have  never  come  even  to 
you.  The  war  has  given  the  men  a  new  viewpoint, 
while  many  of  those  who  are  running  our  great  indus- 
trial plants,  like  you,  father,  have  stood  still.  Your 
methods  may  have  been  all  right  before  the  new  view- 
point came,  but  you  must  take  it  into  account  now.  I 
didn't  create  it,  the  men  didn't  create  it,  .  .  the  war 
did.  I  don't  need  to  say  whether  I  approve  of  it  or 
not,  but  it  exists,  and  you  can't  get  away  from  it.  Why 
not  recognize  the  fact  now  voluntarily  before  you  are 
forced  to  do  so  by  the  men  themselves  ?  Why  not  make 
use  of  me  and  my  experience  to  put  the  new  arrange- 
ment across?" 

James  Norton  had  been  ominously  calm.  Richard 
knew  his  moods,  and  the  present  one  precluded  the  pos- 
sibility of  successful  argument. 

"You're  wasting  your  time  and  mine,"  Norton  said 
with  determination.  "I  have  listened  to  you  because 
you  are  my  son.  I  would  have  thrown  any  one  else 
out  of  the  room  who  tried  to  talk  such  damned  nonsense 
to  me.  Now  get  this  .  .  .  there  may  be  a  possibility  of 
compromise  in  some  things,  but  never  in  loyalty.    You 

[82] 


THE    BALANCE 


can't  be  almost  loyal.  Either  you  are  with  the  Com- 
pany or  with  the  men.  I  am  the  Company.  Labor  has 
no  place  in  the  management  of  any  concern,  and  I'll 
close  these  doors  before  I'll  be  false  to  my  responsibility 
as  the  head  of  this  corporation." 

IV 

Richard  rose  and  walked  slowly  around  the  room, 
his  father  following  every  footstep.  There  was  a  nervous 
twitching  in  the  older  man's  face  which  alone  showed 
the  emotion  which  he  held  so  well  under  control.  At 
last  Richard  turned  suddenly. 

"Father,"  he  said  quietly,  with  all  evidence  of  his 
resentment  dispelled,  "we  never  have  hitched  up  well 
together,  and  I've  no  doubt  it's  mostly  my  fault.  But 
I'm  older  now.  I've  had  experiences  which  have  knocked 
the  boy  out  of  me.  These  have  given  me  convictions 
which  are  entitled  to  respect  just  as  much  as  yours. 
Because  these  convictions  are  different,  is  it  necessary 
for  us  to  quarrel?  Can't  we  meet  each  other  as  men 
now,  each  with  tolerance  for  the  other's  ideas,  each 
willing  to  test  the  other's  convictions  and  in  that  way 
prove  which  is  right?" 

"Why  waste  any  time  on  that  when  I  know  you  are 
wrong  to  begin  with?" 

"Wouldn't  it  be  worth  that  waste  of  time  to  win 
me  over  to  your  ideas,  if  you  are  so  sure  that  you  are 
right?" 

"I  ought  not  to  be  obliged  to  win  you.  It  should  be 
enough  for  me  to  tell  you." 

"Perhaps  it  would  be  .  .  ."  Richard  hung  on,  hoping 
[83] 


THE    BALANCE 


against  hope  .  .  .  "if  our  differences  affected  only  me. 
But  I  feel  the  situation  so  keenly !  I  fought  for  some- 
thing in  France,  father,  which  hasn't  come  true.  We 
thought  we  were  victorious  but  to  have  such  relations 
as  at  present  exist  right  here  between  employer  and 
employed  proves  that  all  our  effort  has  really  ac- 
complished nothing." 

"There's  no  difference  between  these  relations  and 
those  which  existed  before  the  war,"  Norton  insisted. 
"The  men  have  used  the  conditions  produced  by  the 
catacylsm  to  help  them  put  their  blackmail  across. 
Now  the  time  has  come  when  they  can't  do  that  any 
longer,  and  the  old  relations  must  be  re-established." 
"That  can  never  be  .  .  ."  Richard  declared  seri- 
ously. 

"It  shall  be,"  his  father  retorted.  "What  you  have 
said  emphasizes  the  necessity.  You  suggest  that  I  try 
out  your  way  to  prove  that  you  are  wrong?  I  pro- 
pose to  try  my  way  to  prove  that  I  am  right.  Rebel- 
lious sons  need  discipline  and  demonstration  as  well  as 
rebellious  workmen.  I'll  break  you  just  as  I  will  break 
them !" 

"It  can't  be  done,"  Richard  declared  firmly. 
"I've  done  it  before,  and  I  can  do  it  again." 
Norton  became  more  insensed  by  his  son's  repeated 
statement. 

"No,  father;  it's  different  now.  Before,  you  were 
fighting  against  men  whose  horizon  was  limited  to  the 
tops  of  their  machines.  Today  you  are  up  against  an 
idea,  born  in  the  midst  of  bursting  bombs  and  flying 
shrapnel,  under  the  light  of  floating  star-shells.     Do 

[84] 


THE    BALANCE 


you  suppose  that  a  man  who  has  absorbed  that  idea 
will  ever  again  permit  you  or  any  other  employer 
to  treat  him  as  a  chattel?  Those  of  us  who  have  faced 
death  without  flinching  are  today  facing  life  with  the 
same  determination.  Break  us?  Why,  it  can't  be 
done !  The  idea  is  bigger  than  all  of  us  put  together, 
and  is  indestructible !" 

Norton  regarded  his  son  steadily.  There  was  no 
mistaking  the  new  note  of  authority  in  Richard's  voice. 
His  father  realized  at  last  that  he  was  dealing  with  a 
man. 

"You  are  more  than  a  rebellious  son,"  he  said  at 
length;  "you  have  become  a  dangerous  fanatic.  This 
sort  of  talk  will  hypnotize  a  mob  of  ignorant  workmen, 
but  it  doesn't  go  down  with  me.  The  man  who  works 
for  money  has  always  been  and  must  always  be  sub- 
servient to  the  man  with  money.  Any  effort  to  change 
that  relation  means  industrial  revolution.  If  what  you 
say  is  true,  then  this  industrial  revolution  is  upon  us, 
and  it  is  time  for  those  who  represent  capital  to  fight 
for  their  principles.  I  for  one  am  ready  to  accept  the 
challenge  now.  It  is  for  you  to  say  whether  you  are 
with  the  men  or  with  the  Company." 

Richard  realized  that  the  discussion  was  at  an  end. 
There  was  no  possibility  of  breaking  the  deadlock.  Two 
roads  lay  before  him,  but  there  was  only  one  he  could 
take. 

"All  right,"  he  said  quietly,  with  no  effort  to  con- 
ceal his  disappointment;  "there  is  nothing  more  I  can 
say.  You  ask  where  I  stand,  ...  I  am  neither  for  the 
men  nor  for  the  Company.     I  stand  for  the  new  indus- 

[85] 


THE    BALANCE 


trial  relations  which  recognize  the  rights  of  both.  Be- 
cause of  you  and  men  like  you,  who  have  listened  all 
these  years  to  the  roar  of  their  machinery  instead  of 
to  the  heartbeat  of  the  world,  .  .  because  of  radicals 
in  the  labor  ranks  created  by  the  system  you  uphold, 
.  .  it  means  a  fight  to  establish  these  new  relations ; 
and  this  is  where  I  enlist.  I  hoped  to  work  it  out  as 
your  son  .  .  .  with  your  help  and  with  your  understand- 
ing. As  that  is  impossible,  I'll  do  it  now  as  one  of 
your  workmen.  And  I  pray  God  that  the  price  we  all 
have  to  pay  to  make  right  right  is  not  greater  than 
we  can  stand!" 

"Then  you  defy  me!"  Norton  said  at  length,  his 
grizzled  face  aging  in  the  moment.  "I  suppose  you 
realize  what  that  means?" 

"In  the  Civil  War  it  became  necessary  in  certain 
cases  for  sons  to  take  up  arms  against  the  cause  their 
fathers  fought  for,"  Richard  answered  soberly.  "His- 
tory is  repeating  itself,  but  for  the  first  time  I  realize 
what  agony  those  sons  suffered." 

"So  be  it,"  the  old  man  said  huskily.     "Henceforth 
I  stand  as  the  last  of  the  Nortons." 
"Father,  I  beg  of  you  .  .  ." 

Richard  held  out  his  hand  beseechingly,  but  there 
was  no  response  from  the  huddled  figure  sitting  at  the 
desk. 

Gradually  James  Norton  regained  control  of  him- 
self. The  figure  stiffened,  and  with  a  dramatic  gesture 
he  pointed  to  the  door.  Richard  obeyed  the  command, 
turning  with  a  last  appeal  to  the  stern  face  before 
he  stepped  beyond   the   threshold.     Old  Hannah,   an 

[86] 


THE    BALANCE 


elderly  dependent  of  the  household  for  more  than  a 
quarter  century,  who  could  not  avoid  hearing  this  alter- 
cation, as  she  had  heard  many  others,  was  waiting  in 
the  hall  with  tears  streaming  down  her  face.  She  seized 
his  hand  and  kissed  it.  He  was  her  boy  .  .  .  her's, 
since  his  mother  died  .  .  .  being  driven  from  home, 
and  her  heart  was  broken.  Richard  tried  to  speak 
a  word  of  gratitude,  but  the  lump  in  his  throat  pre- 
vented anything  but  the  silent  pressure  of  her  hand. 
Then  he  closed  the  door  and  walked  out  into  the  dark- 
ness. 

V 

Lola  would  have  told  him  what  he  did  not  realize, 
.  .  .  that  what  seemed  darkness  was  really  light,  that 
he  had  at  that  moment  turned  his  vision  into  action, 
and  that  at  last  the  vision  had  found  voice. 


[87] 


CHAPTER     IX 


TONYLEMHOLTZ  was  a  power  among  the  work- 
men in  the  Norton  factory,  and  a  shining  ex- 
ample of  what  personal  magnetism  can  ac- 
complish without  education  in  swaying  the  ideas  and 
actions  of  other  men.  Tony  was  a  fire-brand,  and  half 
the  trouble  he  created  in  his  labor-leadership  came  from 
the  sheer  delight  of  exercising  his  will  over  his  fellow- 
workmen.  Olga  Mirovich  was  the  only  one  he  failed 
to  influence,  and  perhaps  that  was  why  Tony  was  so 
furiously  in  love  with  her.  Olga  laughed  at  him,  de- 
fied him,  ridiculed  him,  yet  she  would  miss  the  violence 
of  his  devotion  for  it  gratified  her  vanity.  Richard 
and  Tony  had  been  good  friends  until  now,  but  the 
rumors  of  Olga's  new  interest  in  the  son  of  her  em- 
ployer did  not  bode  well  for  future  friendship. 

At  the  present  moment,  Lemholtz  was  in  his  element. 
The  notice  posted  by  the  management  that  a  reduced 
wage  scale  would  be  put  into  effect  gave  him  something 
definite  to  work  upon.  The  action  of  the  Company 
in  laying  off  men  and  running  short  hours  came  just 
at  the  time  when  plans  were  maturing  to  make  further 
demands  for  increased  wages,  and  to  pull  off  the  big 

[88] 


THE    BALANCE 


strike.  This  action  frightened  some  of  the  timid  and 
more  conservative  members  of  the  union,  and  caused 
a  delay  in  action.  The  union  officials  were  convinced 
that  the  wage  cut  was  simply  part  of  a  backfire  started 
by  the  management  to  forestall  the  demands  of  the 
men.  One  by  one  Tony  persuaded  the  recalcitrants  to 
get  back  into  line  by  picturing  the  enormous  profits 
which  their  efforts  had  piled  up  for  the  Company, 
and  the  necessity  of  standing  with  unbroken  front  when 
Oppression  sought  to  rob  Labor  of  its  rightful  share 
in  the  profits  which  opportunity  had  recently  given 
them.  This  was  the  moment  for  which  Tony  had  been 
impatiently  waiting,  and  he  was  eager  to  make  the 
most  of  it. 

The  situation  also  provided  an  opening  for  him  to 
gratify  his  personal  spite.  It  could  scarcely  have  been 
a  coincidence  that  the  management  should  have  taken 
their  action  at  the  precise  moment  which  would  stop 
the  union  in  its  aggressive  plans.  Some  one  on  the 
inside  must  have  squealed,  and  it  was  more  than  plausi- 
ble to  suggest  that  Richard  Norton,  posing  as  a  friend 
of  the  workmen,  was  in  reality  acting  as  a  spy  of  the 
Company.  Tony  Lemholtz  was  a  good  judge  of  men, 
and  in  his  heart  he  was  not  so  firmly  convinced  of  Rich- 
ard's culpability  as  would  appear  from  the  flat  accusa- 
tion he  made  to  the  men;  but  it  suited  his  purpose  to 
believe  him  guilty,  particularly  in  his  conversations 
with  Olga;  and  he  did  not  permit  the  opportunity  to 
pass  by. 

"I  will  not  believe  it,"  the  girl  asserted  vehemently. 
"Mr.  Richard  Norton  is  not  that  kind." 

[89] 


THE    BALANCE 


"Mister  Richard  Norton!"  Tony  sneered.  "You 
make  me  sick!  If  he  is  one  of  us,  why  do  you  keep 
stickin'  on  the  'mister'?" 

"Because  he  is  a  gentleman,  Tony  Lemholtz,"  Olga 
retorted  hotly,  "and  because  he  is  my  friend." 

"Gentlemen  don't  mix  with  workin'-people,  and  when 
they're  friends  with  factory-girls  there's  always  some 
good  reason." 

"You  know  me,  Tony  Lemholtz,  and  so  you  know  you 
lie.  Mr.  Richard  Norton  wants  to  help  us,  and  he  will 
if  you  don't  stop  him.  He  is  my  friend,  and  I  trust 
him.     That  is  more  than  I  can  say  of  you." 

Tony's  face  darkened. 

"We  shall  see,"  he  muttered.  "The  men  will  believe 
what  I  tell  'em.  You  can  say  what  you  like  to  the 
women  .  .  .  they  don't  count.  Except  for  Mister 
Richard  Norton  you  would  still  be  my  girl,  and  he  had 
better  look  out  for  himself.  He  is  a  spy,  and  I  will 
get  him  for  that.  He  will  do  you  dirt,  and  I  will  get 
him  for  that.  He  had  better  keep  out  of  my  way. 
Damn  Mister  Richard  Norton !" 

Olga  laughed  tantalizingly. 

"You  are  a  big  stiff,  Tony  Lemholtz!  Mr.  Richard 
Norton  could  tie  you  into  a  double  knot  with  one  hand, 
and  have  the  other  free  to  slap  your  face.  We  shall 
see  tonight  at  the  meeting  whether  the  men  believe 
he  is  a  spy.  But  if  you  play  your  dirty  tricks  on  him 
.  .  ."  Olga's  eyes  snapped  .  .  .  "remember,  Tony 
Lemholtz,  I  know  you.  *I  will  get  him  for  that,'  mimick- 
ing Tony's  voice  to  perfection.  "All  right,  .  .  then. 
I  will  get  you!" 

[90] 


THE    BALANCE 


II 

The  meeting  Olga  referred  to  was  called  by  the  union 
for  this  Saturday  night  to  take  joint  action  on  the  ques- 
tion of  the  reduced  wage  scale.  It  was  a  foregone  con- 
clusion that  a  strike  would  be  called,  and  the  Company 
was  prepared  to  meet  the  issue.  Tony  had  done  his 
work  well,  and  the  men  stood  as  a  solid  phalanx ;  Olga's 
work  with  the  women  was  equally  complete.  Between 
them,  these  two  controlled  the  situation,  so  the  meeting 
was  scarcely  more  than  a  formality  to  record  the  voice 
of  the  working  force,  and  to  formulate  plans  for  defi- 
nite and  concerted  action.  Tony  knew  that  Richard 
Norton  would  be  present.  This  could  not  be  prevented, 
for  Richard  was  a  full-fledged  member  of  the  union,  and 
in  good  standing.  Tony  had  no  evidence  to  substanti- 
ate the  impression  he  had  fostered  among  the  men  as 
to  Richard's  alleged  treachery;  but  Tony  had  swayed 
men  before  by  his  personal  magnetism,  and  what  had 
been  done  once  could  be  done  again. 

Lemholtz  at  once  assumed  control  of  the  meeting. 
He  rehearsed  in  glowing  pictures  the  advantages  which 
had  come  to  the  Company  from  the  efforts  of  the  work- 
ers in  the  months  during  and  succeeding  the  war  period. 
He  compared  the  conditions  of  the  workers  preceding 
this  time  and  at  present.  He  emphasized  the  fact  that 
the  concessions  made  by  the  Company  were  not  volun- 
tary, but  because  necessitated  by  economic  conditions ; 
and  now,  at  the  first  opportunity,  the  Company  sought 
to  restore  the  old  serfdom.  In  this  effort  they  would 
be  successful  if  the  workers  did  not  stand  together  to 

[91] 


THE    BALANCE 


the  bitter  end.  The  plant  could  not  be  operated  with- 
out them.  The  power  lay  in  their  hands,  and  if  they 
failed  to  use  it  they  would  prove  themselves  the  dumb 
things  the  management  believed  them  to  be.  All  that 
was  necessary  to  establish  their  present  wages  as  a 
minimum  was  to  stick  together,  and  he  called  upon 
them  now  to  assert  their  manhood  by  resisting  the  man- 
agement at  every  point. 

A  roar  of  approval  greeted  the  close  of  Tony's  ha- 
rangue, and  he  seated  himself  well  satisfied  with  the 
result  of  his  efforts.  As  the  applause  died  away  he 
again  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"The  vote!"  he  cried,  .  .  .  "and  make  it  unani- 
mous !" 

"Not  so  fast !" 

Richard's  voice  sounded  clear  and  dominating  as 
he  rose  in  the  center  of  the  hall. 

"I  have  something  to  say  first." 

"Don't  listen  to  him,"  Tony  cried,  waving  his  arms 
dramatically.     "He  is  a  spy." 

"Prove  it!" 

Richard  crowded  by  the  men  and  strode  down  the 
aisle  toward  the  stage,  never  taking  his  eyes  from 
Tony's  face. 

"Prove  it!"  he  repeated  after  he  had  mounted  the 
few  steps  and  stood  before  his  accuser.  "Every  per- 
son in  this  room  believes  in  fair  play.  If  I  am  a  spy, 
prove  it  and  I  will  take  the  consequences.  If  you  can't, 
then  I  claim  my  right  to  speak." 

"Who  told  the  boss  two  weeks  ago  we  were  planning 
to  strike?" 

[92] 


THE    BALANCE 


"Not  I,  and  you  know  me  well  enough,  Tony  Lera- 
holtz,  to  know  that  I  would  not  lie.  If  I  had  believed 
it  to  be  my  duty  to  tell  him,  I  should  have  done  so,  but 
I  should  have  told  you  all  that  I  was  going  to  do  it. 
After  what  I've  faced  in  France,  I'm  not  afraid  to  face 
anything  here  .  »  .  Tony  Lemholtz  has  made  a  state- 
ment he  knows  is  false.  At  the  right  time  he  shall 
answer  to  me  for  it,  but  not  now.  We  have  something 
more  important  than  personal  quarrels  to  settle  to- 
night .  .  .  Will  you  listen  to  me?" 

"Let  him  speak,"  came  from  all  over  the  hall  as 
Richard  held  out  his   arms   asking  for  their  answer. 

Tony  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  sullenly  resumed 
his  seat. 

"What  Tony  says  is  Gospel  truth,"  Richard  began 
without  preliminaries.  "The  management  of  this  com- 
pany .  .  .  and  by  that  I  mean  my  own  father  .  .  . 
has  always  looked  upon  labor  as  a  commodity,  to  be 
bought  and  sold  like  any  other,  and  subject  to  the 
same  laws  of  demand  and  supply.  He  is  not  alone  in 
that  attitude,  and  what  we  as  workmen  do  now  ought 
to  be  an  object  lesson  for  every  great  industrial  plant 
in  America." 

"Good  stuff!"  some  one  in  the  audience  shouted. 
"We'll  show  'em  that  we  are  the  people !" 

"What  these  old-type  managers  fail  to  realize," 
Richard  went  on  without  regarding  the  interruption, 
"is  that  a  workman  can  never  be  degraded  to  the  level 
of  a  machine ;  that  he  has  a  personality  which  goes  into 
his  work;  and  that  it  is  this  personality  which  estab- 
lishes the  quality  of  his  product." 

[93] 


THE    BALANCE 


"What's  all  this  got  to  do  with  the  strike  ?"  demanded 
Tony,  made  uneasy  by  the  attention  the  workers  were 
giving  to  the  speaker. 

"Shut  up!"  .  .  .  "Let  him  talk"  ...  the  men  re- 
torted. 

"Until  the  war  shook  things  up,  the  wages  of  labor 
were  too  low,"  Richard  continued,  .  .  "since  then,  they 
have  advanced  to  a  point  beyond  what  can  be  main- 
tained. Labor  must  never  again  accept  the  old  condi- 
tions. The  higher  wages  have  given  the  working-people 
a  taste  of  greater  things,  and  they  require  an  increased 
income  to  gratify  their  new-born  desires.  On  the  other 
hand,  labor  will  destroy  the  advantage  it  has  now  gained 
if  it  insists  on  a  wage-scale  so  high  that  employers 
cannot  produce  commodities  at  a  price  at  which  they 
can  be  sold.  The  management  of  the  Norton  Manu- 
facturing Company  is  undertaking  to  establish  a  scale 
which  will  meet  present  conditions.  What  they  suggest 
may  be  right  and  it  may  not.  We  are  entitled  to  know 
whether  it  is  fair.  A  wage-scale  is  a  vital  matter,  in 
which  employer  and  employed  have  a  common  interest, 
and  neither  one  has  the  right  to  establish  it  without 
conference  with  the  other.  I  believe  that  one  of  the 
things  we  fought  for  in  this  war  was  to  establish  a  new 
basis  ...  a  fair  one  .  .  .  for  the  working-class ;  and 
that  cannot  be  arrived  at  unless  each  side  considers  the 
necessities  of  the  other.  Neither  Labor  nor  Capital 
must  forget  its  inter-dependence." 

"Watch  him!  He's  tryin'  to  slip  somethin'  over  on 
us!"  Tony  yelled,  but  Richard  gave  no  heed  either  to 
him  or  the  cries  of  protest  against  the  interruption. 

[94] 


THE    BALANCE 


He  was  fired  by  his  subject  and  overjoyed  that  the 
audience  would  listen  to  him. 

"What  I  want  to  see  now  is  not  a  fight  simply  to 
resist  wage  reduction.  That  may  or  may  not  ac- 
complish what  we  have  in  mind,  but  at  best  it  means 
doing  it  all  over  again  every  time  a  difference  arises 
between  us  and  the  management.  Now  is  the  time 
to  establish  the  fact  that  the  workers  are  an  integral 
part  of  every  industrial  concern,  that  they  insist  upon 
getting  the  share  that  rightfully  belongs  to  them,  that 
they  are  prepared  to  give  proper  return  for  this  right- 
ful share.  Now  is  the  time  to  show  the  world  that  Labor 
stands  ready  to  recognize  Capital  as  a  co-partner  and 
not  as  an  enemy,  putting  the  onus  on  Capital  to  refuse 
the  co-partnership  if  it  is  unwilling  to  accept  a  fair 
basis  of  relationship." 

Murmurs  ran  around  the  hall. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  giving  proper  return?"  some 
one  asked. 

"Just  what  we  demand  from  Capital,"  Richard 
shouted,  turning  toward  the  speaker.  "In  our  pay 
envelopes  we  receive  genuine  money,  one  hundred  cents 
on  the  dollar.  How  long  would  we  stand  for  it  if  some 
of  that  money  was  counterfeit,  or  if  we  were  short- 
changed? Yet  every  one  of  us  knows  that  we  are  not 
giving  the  management  one  hundred  per  cent,  value  in 
the  quality  of  our  work,  or  sixty  minutes'  full  capacity 
for  every  hour." 

"It's  a  trick!"  Tony  yelled,  jumping  to  his  feet,  and 
in  various  parts  of  the  hall  men  were  rising  in  protest 
against  the   speaker.      But   before   the   outbreak  was 

[95] 


THE    BALANCE 


sufficient  to  drown  the  voices,  John  Sibley,  one  of  the 
ex-service  men,  stood  on  his  chair,  his  stentorian  tone 
rising  above  the  clamor. 

"Let  him  finish,  men !"  he  cried.  "He  fought  with  us 
in  France  .  .  .  He  is  fighting  for  us  here  .  .  .  Let 
him  finish  what  he  has  to  say." 

Ill 

As  the  threatened  outburst  subsided,  Richard  re- 
sumed, but  he  spoke  in  a  quieter,  calmer  tone  which  was 
even  more  effective. 

"Yes,  fellows ;  I  fought  with  you  in  France.  We  are 
still  fighting  and  must  keep  at  it  until  the  Prussianism 
of  the  industrial  world  is  beaten.  There  is  no  trick 
underlying  what  I  say,  but  we  can't  win  unless  we 
are  ready  to  give  as  well  as  take.  The  future  of  the 
world  depends  upon  production,  and  production  rests 
in  our  hands.  The  conditions  under  which  production 
shall  be  carried  on  will  remain  in  our  hands  if  what  we 
ask  is  fair,  and  we  enforce  it  by  demanding  no  more 
than  we  are  prepared  to  give.  Capital  has  been  unfair ; 
Labor,  with  its  newly-discovered  power,  is  repeating 
the  mistake  Capital  has  made.  If  we  are  red-blooded 
men  instead  of  machines,  why  do  we  limit  our  output, 
which  in  itself  destroys  our  individuality?  If  we  de- 
mand our  full  rights,  are  we  honest  if  we  show  ourselves 
wasteful  in  our  production?" 

"What  in  hell  has  all  this  to  do  with  the  strike?" 
Tony  demanded.    "Are  you  in  favor  of  striking  or  not?" 

"I  am,"  Richard  retorted,  "if  we  have  to  strike  to 
secure  our  rights;  and  frankly  I  believe  we  will.     But 

[96] 


THE    BALANCE 


let  us  do  it  with  intelligence,  and  not  as  a  mob.  Is  the 
management  justified  in  cutting  wages?  Have  they 
made  the  profits  we  believe  they  have?  Why  have  they 
decided  to  run  short  time?" 

"Fine!"  sneered  Tony.  "Go  ask  your  papa  those 
questions,  and  then  come  back  and  tell  us !" 

"It  is  not  for  me  to  ask  except  as  your  accredited 
representative,  but  it  is  for  us  to  find  out.  We  have 
a  right  to  ask  and  a  right  to  know.  I  have  no  idea  that 
the  management  will  tell  us.  If  they  do  not,  then  the 
responsibility  for  what  happens  is  theirs.  I  propose 
that  a  committee  be  appointed  to  draw  up  a  statement 
to  the  management,  making  a  demand  for  representa- 
tion in  the  running  of  the  Company,  through  which  we 
may  know  the  authoritative  answers  to  these  questions, 
and  to  all  others  which  may  arise.  Let  us  make  it 
clear  that  at  all  times  we  insist  upon  receiving  as  wages 
our  full  share  of  the  return  from  our  efforts,  at  the 
same  time  granting  Capital  and  Management  a  similarly 
fair  return.  If  our  demand  for  this  representation  is 
granted,  and  it  probably  will  not  be,  then  let  the  first 
duty  of  our  representatives  be  to  discover  whether  this 
wage-cut  is  warranted,  and  govern  ourselves  accord- 
ingly. If  it  is  warranted  then  a  return  to  prosperous 
conditions  will  come  quicker  if  we  recognize  it,  and  this 
prosperity  will  automatically  restore  our  present  wages 
or  increase  them.  If  this  demand  for  representation 
be  denied,  then  let  us  strike  to  enforce  not  merely  the 
present  question,  but  the  bigger,  basic  principle  which 
when  won  will  give  us  our  full  share,  and  will  guarantee 
permanent  prosperity." 

[97] 


THE    BALANCE 


Richard  took  no  part  in  the  turmoil  which  followed 
his  speech.  Returning  to  his  seat  in  the  midst  of  the 
uproar,  he  listened  to  the  harangues  made  by  Tony  and 
the  younger  radical  element  of  the  union  in  answer  to 
remarks  of  the  older  men  who  were  interested  in  Rich- 
ard's suggestions.  That  he  was  concerned  in  the  out- 
come was  shown  by  the  tenseness  of  his  expression,  and 
the  sharp,  penetrating  glances  he  shot  at  the  men 
around  him,  trying  to  read  their  minds. 

IV 

That  John  Sibley  had  stood  as  his  champion  was  of 
peculiar  significance  to  Richard,  for  he  was  one  of 
those  ex-service  boys  who  came  back  from  heroic  deeds 
over-seas  with  the  idea  that  their  work  was  finished. 
Sibley  was  as  splendid  an  example  of  young  American 
manhood  as  one  would  wish  to  see.  Fired  to  a  burst 
of  patriotism  by  his  country's  call  to  arms,  he  enlisted 
as  a  private  and  fought  his  way  to  glory  and  a  cap- 
taincy. He  made  an  enviable  record,  and  deserved 
the  hysterical  welcome  home  given  to  those  first  return- 
ing troops.  Every  one  looked  upon  him  as  a  hero, 
and  he  saw  no  reason  to  disagree  with  them  .  »  .  Then 
came  the  disillusioning.  His  old  position  in  the  factory 
was  given  back  to  him.  That  was  good  enough  for 
John  Sibley,  private,  but  far  beneath  the  dignity  of 
Captain  John  Sibley.  Why  should  he  not  be  advanced 
in  civilian  life  as  he  had  been  in  the  army?  This  am- 
bition was  laudable,  and  might  have  been  attained  if 
he  had  attacked  his  work  with  the  ferocity  he  showed 
when  he  fought  the  Bodies;  but  that  the  fault  lay 

[98] 


THE    BALANCE 


at  his  door  never  occurred  to  him.  In  his  own  eyes  he 
was  still  a  hero,  now  neglected,  and  he  was  forever  look- 
ing and  waiting  for  that  applause  which  was  so  omin- 
ously lacking.  The  world  was  unappreciative  and 
against  him !    This  made  grievances  easy  to  find. 

If  Richard's  conception  of  the  new  industrial  rela- 
tions appealed  to  a  man  of  the  Sibley  type  there  must 
be  something  in  it  beyond  an  expression  of  idealism. 
If,  through  it,  industry  could  receive  the  benefit  of  the 
best  that  men  like  Sibley  could  contribute,  success  was 
assured.  Should  his  efforts  fail,  Richard  felt  that  his 
last  interest  in  anything  would  disappear;  if  he  won, 
then  the  flame  ignited  in  France  still  flared,  translated 
into  living  practicality.  If  the  great  common  cause  still 
survived  beneath  the  debris  of  deadening  non-essentials, 
he  need  no  longer  fear  that  he  was  on  the  outside  of 
the  world,  for  he  could  again  buckle  on  the  armor  of 
the  Crusader  and  make  himself  a  part  of  that  world. 
What  wonder  that  he  felt  himself  on  trial ! 


It  was  a  small  thing  that  turned  the  verdict  in  the 
closest  and  most  bitter  fight  the  Norcross  union  ever 
passed  through.  Tony's  impassioned  tirades  held  to- 
gether the  rabid  members,  but  they  would  have  voted 
with  him  under  any  circumstances.  There  were  enough 
of  the  conservative  element  to  outvote  the  others  if 
they  could  be  united.  The  speeches  of  Alec  Sterling, 
the  stolid  superintendent  of  the  works,  and  John  Sibley 
helped  to  do  this;  but  it  was  little  Olga  Mirovich  who 
won  over  the  doubtful  balance  of  power. 

[99] 


THE    BALANCE 


"Hell!"  she  cried  at  the  top  of  her  voice,  climbing 
onto  an  upturned  packing-case.  "You  are  making  a 
lot  of  fuss  over  nothing.  Let  us  appoint  the  committee 
as  Mr.  Richard  Norton  asks  us  to  do.  They  will  get 
nothing  but  the  door  when  they  see  the  boss,  and  then 
we  can  have  the  strike  any  way.  That  will  satisfy 
every  one,  and  the  bug  will  be  on  the  boss!" 

VI 

The  committee  was  appointed,  with  Richard  its 
chairman,  and  Tony  Lemholtz  left  the  meeting  with  but 
the  tattered  shreds  of  his  former  power.  A  new  labor 
leader  had  arisen  in  Norcross. 


[100] 


CHAPTER     X 


A  FORTNIGHT  had  passed  since  the  afternoon 
when  Lola  exhorted  Richard  to  remain  true  to 
his  idealism  by  translating  his  vision  into  ac- 
tion. During  those  days  which  had  been  so  eventful  in 
Richard's  life  she  had  received  no  word  from  him,  so 
she  could  only  conclude  that  in  spite  of  her  hopefulness 
she  had  failed  to  arouse  him  beyond  temporary  interest. 
What  could  she  do  to  bring  him  to  a  realization  of  her 
devotion  to  him?  What  could  she  say  which  would  ap- 
ply the  spark  necessary  for  his  complete  understand- 
ing ?  She  wished  that  she  might  bring  herself  to  believe 
with  Richard  that  their  marriage  would  supply  him 
with  a  continued  inspiration  to  strive  for  his  ideal; 
but  knowing  him,  and  feeling  sure  that  possession  would 
remove  the  only  incentive,  she  was  sure  that  his  salva- 
tion lay  in  her  steadfast  adherence  to  the  position  she 
had  taken. 

Rumors  came  and  went  as  to  labor  troubles  at  the 
plant,  but  there  was  nothing  to  associate  Richard's 
name  with  them  until  Treadway  dropped  in  for  an  after- 
noon cup  of  tea.  After  his  usual  desultory  conversa- 
tion, the  caller  broached  the  subject  on  which  Lola  was 

[101] 


THE    BALANCE 


most  anxious  to  receive  news  and  which  she  most  dreaded 
to  approach. 

"Have  you  seen  Dick  lately?"  he  inquired  suddenly. 

"Not  .  .  .  for  a  few  days,"  she  replied,  unwilling 
to  admit  how  long  it  had  really  been. 

"Dick  doesn't  have  much  time  for  his  social  duties 
now,"  Treadway  went  on  smoothly.  "I  suppose  you 
know  he's  turned  red?" 

"Turned  red?"  Lola  repeated.  "What  do  you 
mean?" 

"Oh,  bolshevist,  labor  agitator,  socialist,  .  .  all  that 
sort  of  thing,  you  know.  Too  bad,  isn't  it,  a  fine  chap 
like  Dick?" 

"Tell  me  about  it,"  she  urged,  manifesting  an  interest 
which  stimulated  her  companion. 

"Why,  I  thought  every  one  knew  .  .   ." 

Treadway  blew  a  cloud  of  cigarette  smoke  in  front  of 
him. 

"Had  an  awful  row  with  his  father,  you  know,  told 
him  how  he  ought  to  run  his  business,  threatened  him 
with  all  sorts  of  calamities  if  he  didn't  change  his  meth- 
ods, left  the  family  roof  and  fig  tree,  and  now  he's  living 
in  a  tenement  down  near  the  plant." 

Lola  wondered.  Did  this  mean  that  Richard  had  re- 
ceived another  blow,  or  that  he  himself  had  struck  one? 
Much  might  have  happened  during  that  fortnight. 
Had  these  days  disclosed  to  him  the  direction  in  which 
his  opportunity  lay,  or  had  this  break  with  his  father 
supplied  the  final  evidence  that  the  world  was  hopelessly 
askew?    Lola  suffered  from  the  suspense. 

"Poor  Dick !"  she  exclaimed  sympathetically.  "I  am 
[102] 


THE    BALANCE 


so  sorry !  No  one  knows  what  that  boy  has  gone 
through  since  he  came  home !" 

"I'll  say  it  must  have  gone  to  his  head,  if  you  ask 
me,"  Treadway  explained.  "Dick  was  all  right  before 
the  war.  Must  have  got  shell-shock  or  something  like 
that,  don't  you  think?" 

"I  don't  believe  those  who  stayed  at  home  can  under- 
stand just  what  is  the  matter  with  Dick,"  Lola  re- 
marked quietly;  but  Treadway  felt  the  sting. 

"Don't  knock,"  he  protested.  "You  know  I  would 
have  gone  if  I  hadn't  been  necessary  to  an  essential  in- 
dustry." 

"Some  felt  they  were  necessary  to  an  essential  war." 

"Oh,  you're  trying  to  make  me  feel  uncomfortable, 
Lola,  but  you  can't  do  it.  Perhaps  you  might  have, 
a  year  ago,  but  all  that  hurrah  boys  stuff  has  gone  into 
the  discard  now.  I  did  my  part,  and  my  conscience  is 
clear.  Unlike  Nathan  Hale,  my  only  regret  is  that  I 
have  but  one  life  to  live  for  my  country  .  .  .  Now 
don't  be  unfair  to  me." 

Lola  held  back  the  reply  which  was  on  her  lips. 
Treadway's  "war-service"  had  always  been  a  sore  point 
with  her,  but  there  was  nothing  to  be  gained  by  raising 
it  now.    Besides,  she  wanted  to  learn  of  Richard. 

"Tell  me  about  Dick,"  she  urged  ...  "I  interrupted 
you." 

"Oh,  yes,"  Treadway  assented  cheerfully;  glad  to 
turn  the  conversation  upon  a  more  agreeable  subject. 
"He's  thrown  young  Lemholtz  out  of  the  saddle  as 
labor  leader,  and  jumped  in  himself.  Clever,  I'll  admit, 
but  it  is  too  bad  for  Dick  to  do  it,  isn't  it?     The  old 

[103] 


THE    BALANCE 


man  is  quite  upset,  you  know.  Can't  blame  him  for 
that,  can  we?" 

Treadway's  obvious  delight  in  being  the  harbinger 
of  such  tidings  was  mortifying,  for  the  fact  that  she 
had  not  already  learned  the  news  from  Richard  himself 
was  an  admission  of  altered  conditions.  But  there  was 
nothing  now  to  conceal,  and  she  must  know  all  that 
Treadway  could  tell  her. 

"Of  course,  it  is  terrible  for  Dick  and  his  father  to 
have  a  break,"  Lola  said  with  real  feeling,  .  .  .  "each 
of  them  needs  the  other  so  much.  But  I  don't  under- 
stand yet  just  what  has  happened." 

"I'll  explain.  The  men  were  going  to  make  all  sorts 
of  demands,  and  Dick  has  put  them  up  to  some  they 
never  thought  of  before,  .  .  factory  representation  and 
all  that  sort  of  thing.  They  have  made  him  chairman 
or  something  of  the  kind  of  their  committee,  and  he  in- 
sists on  seeing  the  entire  Board  of  Directors.  Not  the 
General  Manager,  if  you  please,  but  the  entire  Board 
of  Directors!  What  do  you  think  of  that?  Why,  his 
father  is  still  frothing  at  the  mouth !" 

"What  are  the  demands  he  is  going  to  make?"  she 
inquired,  striving  to  conceal  her  real  interest. 

These  were  not  the  acts  of  a  despairing  man !  Could 
it  be  that  her  exhortation  was  beginning  to  bear  fruit? 

"Oh,  yes,"  Treadway  replied ;  .  .  "that  is,  I  can  tell 
you  some  of  them.    He  .  .  ." 

"Suppose  you  let  me  answer  Lola's  question  myself." 

"Oh,  Dick !"  the  girl  cried,  rising  and  holding  out  her 
hand  to  him  impulsively;  "where  did  you  drop  from?" 

"Sorry  to  interrupt,"  he  said,  looking  steadily  at 
[104] 


THE    BALANCE 


Treadway.  "I  came  up  the  north  steps.  Treadway 
has  apparently  told  you  all  the  news,  but  perhaps  I 
can  supply  some  of  the  details.  I'll  wait  for  you  inside." 
"Oh,  I  must  be  going,"  Treadway  exclaimed,  rising 
hastily  in  his  embarrassment.  "Promised  to  meet  the 
boys  at  the  club,  and  I'm  late  now.     So  long." 

II 

Lola  led  the  way  into  the  house.  There  was  a  great 
joy  in  her  face  as  she  looked  up  into  his  from  the 
huge  chair  into  which  she  threw  herself.  She  needed 
no  word  from  him  to  know  that  at  last  the  spark  had 
kindled  into  flame.  It  mattered  little  where  or  how, 
.  .  the  fact  was  obvious. 

"I  don't  know  how  much  Treadway  has  told  you, 
.  ."  Richard  began. 

"Never  mind  what  he  said.  I  want  to  know  it  all 
from  the  beginning." 

"Well,"  he  began,  "first  of  all,  I  want  to  tell  you  how 
sorry  I  am  that  I  am  to  be  a  disappointment  to  you, 
just  as  I  have  been  to  my  father." 

Lola  sobered. 

"Oh,  Dick!  I  cannot  believe  that!  When  I  saw 
your  face  I  was  sure  that  at  last  you  had  found  your- 
self." 

"I  have,  Lola,  but  not  the  way  you  expected  .  .  . 
And  truly,  I  did  want  to  please  you,  dear !  Things  have 
moved  so  fast  since  I  saw  you  that  I  could  not  even 
get  here  to  tell  you  about  them.  There  is  going  to  be 
trouble  at  the  plant  and  apparently  I  am  to  be  in  the 
thick  of  it." 

[105] 


THE    BALANCE 


Then  he  told  her  in  detail  of  the  heated  discussion 
with  his  father,  of  his  work  with  the  men,  of  the  strug- 
gle with  Tony  Lemholtz,  and  his  final  victory  over 
the  radicals.  Lola  could  scarcely  believe  that  this  was 
the  same  Richard.  The  pall  of  discouragement  had  fal- 
len from  him ;  there  was  purpose  in  every  word,  author- 
ity and  decision  in  every  motion. 

"Have  you  an  idea  that  your  father  will  even  con- 
sider such  a  proposition  as  you  suggest?"  Lola  asked 
as  he  paused. 

"Not  a  chance,"  Richard  acknowledged.  "If  the  set- 
tlement of  the  present  situation  is  left  to  him  it  means 
hardship  for  the  men  and  bankruptcy  for  the  business. 
That  is  why  I  am  trying  to  go  over  his  head.  I  want 
a  chance  to  show  the  Directors  just  what  this  thing 
means,  and  I  can't  do  that  to  a  man  who  won't  even 
listen  to  me.  Your  father  could  be  a  wonderful  help, 
Lola.  The  way  he  talked  the  other  day  makes  me 
think  he  might  be  sympathetic.  Will  you  help  me  win 
him  over?" 

"Of  course  I'll  help,  Dick." 

"It  is  going  to  be  a  tremendous  proposition  to  put 
across,  but  it's  worth  a  fight,  isn't  it?  Think,  Lola, 
what  it  would  mean !  Employers  and  employed  work- 
ing together  as  partners,  .  .  the  energy  now  wasted  by 
each  in  fighting  the  other  concentrated  on  production, 
.  .  all  animated  by  a  common  interest,  sharing  in  a 
common  prosperity !  It  is  so  logical  if  each  will  recog- 
nize the  other's  importance  to  himself,  and  cease  try- 
ing to  get  more  than  his  share." 

He  was  so  consumed  by  the  excitement  of  having  a 
[106] 


THE    BALANCE 


new  world  open  before  him  that  he  actually  trembled. 
As  Lola  listened  to  him  a  great  joy  came  into  her  heart. 

"Why  did  you  think  that  this  would  be  a  disappoint- 
ment to  me?"  she  asked  quietly. 

"You  had  your  heart  so  set  on  that  vision  of  mine." 

She  looked  at  him  to  make  sure  that  he  was  serious. 
What  a  big,  blessed,  lovable  idiot  the  boy  was ! 

"Why,  Dick !"  she  cried,  "this  is  your  vision !  Don't 
you  realize  it?  The  voice  has  come!  You  have  ac- 
cepted the  call." 

He  looked  at  her  in  complete  bewilderment  for  a 
moment ;  then  a  new  light  came  into  his  face,  culminat- 
ing in  a  radiant  smile. 

"I  believe  you  are  right!  Lola,  .  .  I  really  believe 
you  are  right!    It  is  the  same  thing,  isn't  it?" 

"Of  course  it  is,  Dick.  It  is  making  a  practical  ap- 
plication of  the  idealism  which  meant  so  much  to  you  in 
France.    What  more  could  you  possibly  ask?" 

Even  now  the  realization  of  the  fact  was  almost  be- 
yond him,  but  the  truth  could  not  be  denied. 

"I  knew  that  you  could  do  it,  Dick !"  Lola  declared. 
"It  was  worth  a  little  misunderstanding,  wasn't  it?  It 
was  worth  waiting  for.  I  knew  that  you  could  not  feel 
as  you  had  and  then  slip  back.  That  was  what  I  was 
trying  to  make  you  see,  dear.  Will  you  forgive  me 
for  seeming  to  be  unkind?" 

But  Richard's  thoughts  were  too  firmly  centered 
upon  the  opportunity  he  saw  before  him  to  recognize 
the  personal  appeal  which  the  girl's  words  contained. 

"Why,  it  is  even  bigger  than  anything  I  ever  thought 
of  in  France,  isn't  it?"  he  exclaimed  joyfully.    "It  is  so 

[107] 


THE    BALANCE 


big  that  we  can't  expect  to  do  more  than  make  a 
start,  but  if  I  can  even  do  that  I  shall  be  satisfied.  If 
the  American  Legion  would  only  throw  its  weight  to 
force  the  issue  nothing  could  stop  it.  This  is  just  the 
kind  of  constructive  work  they  ought  to  do.  The 
Legion  was  formed  'to  combat  the  autocracy  of  both 
the  classes  and  the  masses ;  to  make  right  the  master 
of  might;  to  promote  peace  and  good-will  on  earth; 
to  safeguard  and  transmit  to  posterity  the  principles 
of  justice,  freedom,  and  democracy.'  Its  members, 
pledged  to  these  articles  of  incorporation  are  to  be 
found  among  the  employers  and  the  employed.  Indus- 
trial peace  means  production,  and  production  means 
the  solution  of  the  world's  problem  today." 

"Oh,  Dick !"  Lola  cried,  fired  by  his  enthusiasm.  "If 
that  could  only  be  spread  over  the  country,  over  the 
world !    Isn't  there  some  little  way  I  could  help  ?" 

"Of  course,  Lola,"  he  answered  with  unconscious 
patronage,  oblivious  to  the  part  she  had  already 
played;  "but  I  particularly  need  your  father.  I  also 
need  every  one  who  can  see  beyond  himself  and  his  own 
petty  little  personal  interests.  For  the  struggle  will 
not  be  with  Capital  alone.  The  labor  organizations 
are  handicapped  by  those  who  think  only  of  them- 
selves. The  mass  of  the  workers  are  honest  and  sincere 
in  seeking  a  fair  return  for  their  efforts,  and  are  will- 
ing to  give  a  full  equivalent.  Those  who  influence  them 
to  do  otherwise  are  traitors  to  their  own  brothers,  and 
must  be  weeded  out.  But  they'll  fight,  and  by  confus- 
ing the  real  issue  will  divide  the  men  and  endanger  our 
success." 

[108] 


THE    BALANCE 


"You  have  your  own  men  back  of  you  .  .  ." 

"Only  partially.  Tony  Lemholtz  and  his  radicals 
are  against  me  from  the  start.  Sterling  and  the 
conservatives  are  with  me.  Little  Olga  Mirovich  is 
my  right-hand  man.  I  don't  know  what  I'd  do  with- 
out her." 

Richard  was  too  obsessed  by  his  subject  to  notice 
the  expression  which  passed  over  Lola's  face,  so  her 
question  surprised  him. 

"Is  Olga  only  a  right-hand  man,  Dick?"  she  asked 
pointedly.     "Olga  is  a  woman,  and  a  very  pretty  one." 

Richard  looked  at  her  a  moment  and  then  laughed. 

"If  I  didn't  know  you  so  well,  Lola,  I'd  think  you 
were  jealous !  No ;  there's  nothing  like  that.  Olga  and 
I  have  a  big  common  interest,  but  aside  from  that  the 
child  simply  amuses  me." 

"She  is  no  child,  Dick,"  Lola  said  gravely,  .  .  "and 
people  are  talking." 

A  wave  of  angry  color  surged  through  Richard's 
face. 

"They're  talking,  are  they?  Well  .  .  .  let  them 
talk !  There's  nothing  between  Olga  and  me  which  isn't 
thoroughly  respectable,  even  measured  by  standards 
you  and  I  know  are  stupid.  Until  the  world  learns  the 
difference  between  essentials  and  non-essentials,  and  to 
mind  its  own  business,  people  will  waste  their  breath 
like  that.  A  man's  life  is  made  up  of  his  work  and  his 
pleasures.  It's  clear  to  me  now  what  my  work  is  to 
be;  my  pleasures  I  will  pluck  as  I  can,  for  there  are 
to  be  few  enough  for  me  at  best  .  .  .  Cheer  up,  O 
mentor  o'mine!     I'm  feeling  very  happy  today,  .  . 

[109] 


THE    BALANCE 


'Gather  ye  rosebuds  while  ye  may, 

Old  Time  is  still  a-flying, 
And  this  same  flower  that  smiles  today 

Tomorrow  will  be  dying,9 " 

he  quoted  irrelevantly.    "Let's  talk  of  real  things." 

"Can't  we  talk  a  little  about  ourselves,  Dick?"  she 
began.  "Surely  that  is  real.  I  haven't  seen  you  for 
nearly  two  weeks." 

"That  subject  is  taboo,  Lola,"  was  the  quick  answer. 
"It  leads  to  but  one  conclusion,  and  that  you've  asked 
me  to  avoid." 

"But  suppose  .  .  ." 

"I  have  come  to  see  things  your  way,  Lola,"  Richard 
went  on.  "It  hasn't  been  easy,  but  I've  brought  myself 
to  believe  that  you  are  right  in  saying  that  neither  one 
of  us  in  ready  yet  to  think  of  marriage.  What  you 
said  is  true:  we  must  prove  ourselves  faithful  to  what 
the  war  taught  us  before  we  earn  the  right  to  consider 
ourselves.  The  men  seem  to  think  that  I  can  lead  them. 
This  may  be  the  call  you  spoke  of,  which  you  urged  me 
not  to  ignore.  I  will  try  to  live  up  to  the  best  there 
is  in  me,  Lola,  and  I  am  satisfied,  now  that  I  realize 
that  this  is  what  you  want  me  to  do." 

Ill 

Lola  let  him  leave  her  without  further  protest.  While 
in  this  mood,  it  was  useless  for  her  to  explain  to  him 
that  since  their  last  conversation  circumstances  had 
removed  the  single  obstacle  to  their  marriage.  What 
Richard  said  showed  how  little  he  understood  the  pur- 

[110] 


THE    BALANCE 


pose  of  her  insistence  .  .  .  had  he  found  himself  earlier 
there  would  have  been  no  need  of  postponement.  Today 
she  not  only  stood  ready  but  was  as  eager  as  he  had 
been  for  the  union  which  would  permit  them  to  work 
out  their  problem  jointly,  .  .  but  now  Richard  saw 
in  their  marriage  a  hindrance  to  his  plans.  He  seemed 
to  feel  that  he  had  simply  fallen  in  with  her  ideas,  when 
in  reality  he  had  established  a  new  basis  of  his  own. 
The  situation  had  taken  an  unexpected  turn,  and  she 
must  think  it  out  .  .  .  Had  his  intimacy  with  Olga 
been  a  factor  in  his  decision?  .  .  .  People  said  .  .  . 
"I  am  just  like  every  one  else,"  Lola  declared  to  her- 
self, indignant  that  she  had  permitted  her  thoughts  to 
run  along  this  line,  .  .  "How  can  I  ever  expect  to  ac- 
complish anything  with  others  if  I  am  so  inconsistent 
myself  ?" 


[Ill] 


CHAPTER     XI 


IT  MUST  not  be  supposed  that  Henry  Cross 
dropped  out  of  town  affairs  after  his  historic  bat- 
tle with  James  Norton  over  the  baptismal  name. 
On  the  contrary,  Norton  would  have  told  you  with  some 
degree  of  feeling  that  Henry  Cross  was  distressingly  om- 
nipresent. The  Cross  ancestry  went  back  in  too  direct 
a  line  in  New  England  genealogy  to  make  it  possible  for 
the  present  family  head  to  accept  an  eclipse  without  en- 
forcing a  price  which  should  be  felt  in  the  paying. 
James  Norton  had  been  the  shadow  which  had  blotted 
out  the  disk  of  Henry  Cross's  sun,  and  for  twenty  years 
the  offended  Dorian  had  quietly  but  effectively  enforced 
almost  daily  reprisals.  Let  Norton  undertake  to  secure 
a  coveted  piece  of  land,  and  it  would  develop  that  Cross 
had  anticipated  him  or  the  price  had  doubled ;  let  him, 
as  president,  propose  any  action  for  the  bank,  and 
Cross,  as  director,  straightway  and  as  a  matter  of 
principle  put  himself  in  opposition.  If  a  Norcrossian 
made  an  enemy  of  James  Norton  by  that  act  he  be- 
came a  friend  of  Henry  Cross.  The  other  citizens  of 
the  town  recognized  the  antagonism  and  enjoyed  it, 
a  favorite  form  of  salutation  being,  "What's  the  latest 

[112] 


THE    BALANCE 


about  Norton  and  Cross?"  The  historic  Kentucky 
feuds  perhaps  contained  more  shooting  and  dramatics, 
but  no  more  honest  hatred. 


II 

When  the  armistice  with  Germany  was  declared, 
James  Norton,  in  common  with  other  far-sighted  exe- 
cutives, made  definite  plans  for  curtailing  production 
and  reducing  expenses ;  but  contrary  to  his  expectations 
the  demand  increased  rather  than  diminished,  and  the 
question  was  how  to  meet  it  rather  than  how  to  main- 
tain it.  Labor  made  new  demands  and  was  in  a  posi- 
tion to  enforce  them.  James  Norton  shook  his  head 
ominously,  but  to  his  amazement  the  consumer  offered 
no  objection  to  the  increased  prices,  his  only  anxiety 
being  lest  his  orders  could  not  be  filled.  This  condition 
continued  month  after  month,  until  the  manufacturer 
came  to  regard  the  abnormal  as  normal,  and  the  laborer 
believed  his  marvelously  increased  stipend  to  be  assured 
for  all  time.  What  had  been  looked  upon  as  luxuries 
became  necessities,  and  society  had  to  change  its  classi- 
fications. The  first  stratum  and  the  most  arrogant 
was  now  the  working  class ;  the  second  included  the  man- 
ufacturers, somewhat  less  assuming,  but  possessing  no 
lack  of  self-respect ;  and  the  third,  a  new  creation,  were 
the  nouveaux  pauvres,  those  gentle  folk  who  before 
the  war  received  a  sufficient  income  from  their  invest- 
ments in  stocks  and  bonds  to  meet  their  varying  de- 
mands of  living.  These  unfortunate  creatures  in  the 
third  class  found  themselves  between  the  Scylla  of  re- 

[113] 


THE    BALANCE 


duced   or  vanished   dividends    and    the    Charybdis    of 
enormously  increased  expenses  and  income  taxes. 

Then,  without  warning,  came  the  economic  condition 
for  which  the  manufacturers  had  earlier  prepared  but 
later  ignored.  The  buying  public  struck.  As  if  busi- 
ness had  been  cut  in  two  by  a  gigantic  cleaver,  orders 
in  hand  were  suddenly  canceled  and  new  orders  ceased. 
Before  the  industrial  world  grasped  the  fact  that  the 
reaction  had  actually  arrived  the  enormous  profits 
yielded  by  war  prices  had  been  wiped  out  by  the  con- 
tinuing high  cost  of  labor,  which  could  no  longer  be 
passed  on  to  the  consumer,  and  by  inventories  of  ma- 
terials purchased  at  top  prices  and  daily  shrinking  to 
lower  values  which  meant  appalling  losses.  James 
Norton  was  but  one  of  the  many  executives  who  found 
themselves  face  to  face  with  the  greatest  business  crisis 
of  their  lives. 

Ill 

All  this  produced  a  condition  for  which  Henry  Cross 
had  been  patiently  waiting  for  twenty  years.  The 
accumulated  fortune  of  the  Cross  family  was  divided 
into  three  classes,  .  .  land,  mortgages,  and  government 
securities.  The  life-long  principle  of  Henry  Cross  had 
been  to  keep  a  sufficient  amount  of  his  property  in 
liquid  form  so  that  he  could  always  gratify  his  quiet 
passion  for  bargains.  This  might  take  the  form  of 
a  neat  little  farm  whose  owner  found  himself  embar- 
rassed through  ill-luck  or  poor  management,  or  Lib- 
erty Bonds  ten  to  fifteen  points  below  par.  Cross  never 
purchased  a  share  of  stock  in  the  market,  yet  he  lacked 

[114] 


THE    BALANCE 


no  opportunity  to  make  use  of  his  native  genius  as  a 
speculator.  He  would  have  told  you  that  he  "traded" 
sometimes,  but  never  speculated.  He  bought  <only 
when  the  other  man  wanted  to  sell,  and  his  business 
discussions  were  brief  and  to  the  point. 

"You  are  the  one  asking  me  to  buy,  aren't  you  ?"  he 
would  demand  at  the  first  symptom  of  an  argument. 
"That's  what  I'll  give  you  for  it.    Take  it  or  leave  it." 

But  in  any  man's  scheme  of  life  there  are  always 
exceptions,  and  in  this  case  there  were  two:  every 
share  of  stock  in  the  Norcross  National  Bank  which 
changed  hands  interested  Henry  Cross  from  a  buyer's 
standpoint,  and  during  the  last  two  years  he  had  in- 
vested heavily  in  the  commercial  paper  of  the  Norton 
Manufacturing  Company.  No  one  but  his  agent  knew 
of  these  departures  from  his  life-long  practice,  but 
share  by  share  he  came  nearer  to  a  controlling  interest 
in  the  bank,  and  month  by  month  increased  his  holdings 
of  Norton's  notes,  waiting  patiently  for  the  inflated 
business  airship  to  make  its  enforced  landing.  When 
that  happened  something  told  him  there  would  be  a 
bump. 

The  Cross  household  included  Mrs.  Cross  and  Miss 
Sarah  Cross,  Henry's  maiden  sister.  For  over  thirty- 
five  years  it  had  seen  no  changes  except  in  the  altera- 
tions in  the  house  itself  occasioned  by  the  addition  of 
material  improvements  as  they  came  to  be  necessities. 
The  telephone  had  been  the  greatest  struggle,  but  Henry 
Cross  had  no  intention  of  permitting  any  one  in  Nor- 
cross to  possess  what  he  lacked,  so  the  instrument  was 
installed,  even  though  for  over  a  year  after  its  instal- 

[115] 


THE    BALANCE 


lation  no  out-going  calls  were  registered  against  it. 
It  was  an  harmonious  household  with  but  a  single 
mind,  and  that  mind  was  Henry  Cross's.  The  women 
had  two  distinct  interests  in  life,  <•  .  Henry  Cross  and 
the  Congregational  Church,  the  first  from  habit  and 
the  second  from  inheritance.  The  Calvinistic  doctrines 
had  come  to  the  Cross  family  in  direct  line  from  Jon- 
athan Edwards.  Such  topics  as  original  sin,  bondage 
of  the  will,  predestination,  and  the  creation  were  still 
discussed  with  as  much  familiarity  and  enthusiasm  as 
other  families  manifest  today  in  baseball  scores  and 
rival  types  of  automobiles.  Where  on  some  walls  would 
hang  a  photograph  of  Theodore  Roosevelt  a  visitor 
might  observe  an  ancient  sampler  carrying  the  words, 
"In  Adam's  fall  we  sinned  all."  There  was  no  com- 
promise with  wrong  in  the  hearts  of  the  Cross  women, 
but  their  less  righteous  neighbors,  who  considered  them 
strait-laced  and  bigoted,  were  scarcely  warranted  in 
saying  that  Sarah  even  blew  her  nose  on  high  moral 
principles.  Under  these  circumstances  the  routine  of 
the  Cross  household  possessed  little  variety,  and  there 
had  been  no  thrill  since  the  west  end  of  the  house  caught 
fire  ten  years  before. 

"Henry,"  said  Mrs.  Cross  to  her  husband  when  he 
returned  to  the  house  late  one  afternoon,  "we've  got  to 
do  something  about  that  dog." 

"Killed  another  cat,  has  he?" 

"Yes ;  I'm  getting  a  regular  cemetery  of  cats  out 
in  the  garden.  If  you  can  tell  me  why  that  dog  pays  no 
attention  to  cats  on  week-days  and  kills  one  and  fetches 
it  home  every  Sunday,  I'd  like  to  know." 

[116] 


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"Takes  'em  for  heretics,  I  guess."  Henry  chuckled 
over  his  joke.  "He  can't  drop  his  weekly  donation  into 
the  contribution  box  on  the  Sabbath,  so  he  brings  it  to 
you,  Martha." 

"He's  awful  vindictive  about  it.  Even  after  he's 
killed  'em,  he  shakes  'em  'til  it  makes  me  sick." 

"Probably  wants  to  prove  to  'em  that  there's  pun- 
ishment after  death." 

"What's  got  into  you,  Henry  Cross,"  she  demanded, 
"to  make  you  so  'specially  chipper  and  good-natured 
tonight?" 

"Nothing  to  speak  of,"  he  disclaimed;  "just  trying 
to  be  cheerful,  I  suppose." 

Mrs.  Cross,  however,  was  not  to  be  diverted,  and 
repeated  her  observations  to  her  sister-in-law. 

"We'll  know  in  time,"  Sarah  replied  philosophically. 
"Henry  won't  open  his  mouth  until  he  gets  good  and 
ready,  so  there  isn't  any  use  in  wondering." 

During  supper  Henry's  good  spirits  continued.  Mrs. 
Cross  found  it  difficult  to  follow  Sarah's  advice,  for 
her  curiosity  still  flourished  with  undiminished  vigor 
even  though  other  personal  characteristics  had  weak- 
ened from  a  hardening  of  the  ideas. 

"Land's  sakes,  Henry !"  she  exclaimed  at  length, 
"aren't  you  going  to  tell  us  what  has  happened?  I 
haven't  seen  you  so  chipper  for  years." 

Henry  Cross  chuckled  to  himself. 

"I  am  feeling  pretty  good,"  he  admitted ;  "but  there 
isn't  much  to  talk  about  .  .  .  yet." 

"You  aren't  going  to  leave  us  hung  up  like  that,  are 


you?" 


[117] 


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"I'll  tell  you  all  in  good  time  .  .  .  I'd  like  some  more 
of  those  beans." 

"Henry  Cross !"  The  gentle  spouse  gave  evidence 
of  being  annoyed.  "It  isn't  Christian  for  you  to  ag- 
gravate us  like  this.    Don't  you  agree  with  me,  sister?" 

"What  is  the  use  of  agreeing?"  Sarah  asked  with 
resignation.    "You  know  Henry." 

"Well,"  he  said  slowly,  "it  isn't  any  secret  as  I  know 
of,  but  I  haven't  much  to  tell  .  .  .  yet.  I  am  going 
over  to  call  on  James  Norton  after  supper." 

"Henry  Cross!"  Martha  ejaculated,  and  then  sub- 
sided into  inarticulate  suspense. 

The  thrill  had  come.  If  Henry  Cross  had  anticipated 
the  pleasure  of  creating  a  dramatic  moment  he  could 
ask  for  nothing  more.  Martha  looked  at  Sarah  and 
Sarah  looked  at  Martha,  while  both  looked  at  Henry, 
and  the  silence  was  filled  with  tense  excitement.  Henry 
tried  to  appear  unconcerned  as  he  ate  his  beans,  but 
his  enjoyment  of  the  situation  was  far  greater  than 
his  gastronomic  satisfaction. 

There  are  few  shocks,  however  violent,  from  which 
those  affected  do  not  ultimately  recover.  At  length 
Sarah  found  her  voice. 

"Has  James  Norton  invited  you  without  includ- 
ing us?" 

"Oh,  no;  nothing  social  .  .  .  nothing  social,"  ho 
hastened  to  reassure  his  sister. 

"Are  you  going  to  James  Norton's  house  of  your 
own  free  will?"  Martha  demanded  incredulously. 

"Yes,"  Henry  acknowledged;  "I  am.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  Norton  doesn't  know  I'm  coming." 

[118] 


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"Merciful  man!" 

This  was  the  most  extravagant  expression  of  pro- 
fanity ever  heard  in  the  Cross  household,  and  its  use 
evidenced  the  high  moral  tension. 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  that  you  are  going  to  make 
up  with  that     .  .  .  that  .  .  ." 

"Don't  get  excited,"  Henry  interrupted  soothingly. 
"Didn't  the  minister  in  his  sermon  yesterday  tell  us  to 
forgive  our  enemies?" 

"That  was  a  quotation  from  the  Scriptures,  Henry 
Cross,  and  you  know  it.  The  Scriptures  were  written 
long  before  James  Norton  was  born  or  there  would 
have  been  a  special  exception  made  to  cover  his  case." 

"Why,  Martha!"  Henry  thoroughly  enjoyed  his 
wife's  wrath  when  directed  against  his  rival,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  encourage  it.  "What  has  James  Norton  ever 
done  to  get  you  so  down  on  him?" 

"Done?  You  ask  me  what  he's  done  when  there 
hasn't  been  a  day  these  last  twenty  years  I  haven't 
heard  you  say  something  mean  against  him !  And  now 
you're  going  to  make  up  with  him  after  all  these  years 
of  hating  him !  If  you  hadn't  been  a  Christian  all  your 
life,  Henry  Cross,  I'd  say  you  were  getting  a  sudden 
experience  of  religion  and  an  awful  dose  of  it !" 

Sarah  had  been  watching  her  brother's  face  and  was 
able  to  detect  what  Martha's  excitement  had  caused  her 
to  overlook. 

"Can't  you  see  he's  making  sport  of  you,  Martha? 
Henry  Cross  never  flopped  like  that  in  all  his  natural 
life." 

"Then  he  has  no  right  to  treat  me  like  a  child." 
[119] 


THE    BALANCE 


Martha's  eyes  filled  with  tears  of  mortification. 

"There,  there,"  her  husband  soothed  her;  "every- 
body has  to  have  his  little  joke.  I  have  an  idea  that 
my  call  will  cause  Mr.  James  Norton  the  utmost  as- 
tonishment." 

"I  should  think  it  might,"  Martha  dried  her  tears ; 
"it  certainly  has  me.  Why  don't  you  tell  us  all 
about  it?" 

"Never  like  to  count  my  chickens  before  they're 
hatched,  but  I  will  tell  you  this,  Martha,  .  ."  Henry 
Cross's  face  hardened  as  his  wife  had  seldom  seen  it 
before,  »  .  "I've  got  James  Norton  now  where  I  can 
handle  him,  and  it  has  taken  me  twenty  years  to  do  it !" 


[120] 


CHAPTER    XII 


RICHARD  was  waylaid  by  Barry  as  he  was  leav- 
ing the  house.  What  Lola  had  told  him  about 
the  contentment  her  protege  had  found  gave 
Dick  a  new  interest  in  him.  Until  then  he  had  looked 
upon  the  one-legged  man  as  a  bit  of  flotsam  cast  up  by 
the  war,  more  fortunate  than  most  because  he  had 
fallen  among  sympathetic  and  understanding  friends, 
but  still  a  pitiable  object  because  necessarily  the  re- 
cipient of  charity. 

Nothing  so  exasperated  Richard  or  caused  so  severe 
a  shock  to  his  patriotism  as  the  failure  of  his  own  gov- 
ernment to  provide  promptly  and  efficiently  for  the 
care  of  those  who  had  given  themselves  to  their  coun- 
try's service.  No  other  nation  proved  itself  so  liberal 
in  its  provisions  for  the  disabled  soldiers ;  no  other 
nation,  through  legislative  and  administrative  defi- 
ciencies, so  failed  to  make  those  provisions  available. 
It  seemed  incredible  to  Richard  that  an  intelligent  gov- 
ernment should  fail  to  appreciate  the  fact  that  in  the 
rehabilitation  of  the  disabled  soldier  the  three  important 
needs  .  .  .  medical  treatment,  vocational  training,  and 
financial    support  .  .  .  were    the   simultaneous    neces- 

[121] 


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sities  of  one  man  and  not  of  three  different  men,  or  of 
one  man  at  three  different  times.  The  lack  of  vision 
and  foresight  in  our  preparation  seemed  indefensible 
to  him  when  we  had  before  us  the  experience  of  other 
nations,  and  of  our  own  nation  in  previous  wars.  The 
delayed  start  made  by  our  government  and  its  lack  of 
conception  of  the  magnitude  of  the  problem,  resulting 
in  so  much  unnecessary  suffering  for  the  disabled  vet- 
erans, appeared  to  Richard  as  nothing  less  than  crim- 
inal, and  he  was  eager  to  call  some  one  strictly  to 
account. 

Richard  was  among  the  leaders  in  the  American 
Legion  to  force  home  to  a  government  clogged  by  red 
tape,  administrative  chaos,  duplication,  and  wasted 
energy  and  conflict,  the  fact  that  thousands  of  these 
men  were  waiting  and  had  been  waiting  for  months  for 
compensation  for  their  injuries;  that  other  thousands 
had  waited  at  least  as  long  for  an  opportunity  to  re- 
establish themselves  as  sustaining  members  of  society 
by  vocational  training;  that  still  other  thousands  were 
in  need  of  hospital  care  with  no  hospital  facilities  avail- 
able; that  afflicted  and  penniless  veterans  had  been 
driven  to  refuge  in  almshouses  and  jails;  that  hundreds 
were  still  the  unwilling  objects  of  public  and  private 
charity. 

To  find  one  of  these  men,  like  Barry,  who  had  been 
able  to  rise  above  the  supineness  of  governmental  delay 
and  work  out  his  own  individual  solution,  was  an  event 
of  no  little  interest  to  Richard.  Lola  had  told  him 
how  all  bitterness  had  disappeared,  and  that  Barry 
O'Carolan's  experiences  had  really  made  of  him  a  phil- 

[122] 


THE    BALANCE 


osopher.     This  Richard  could  scarcely  believe,  and  he 
was  glad  of  this  first  opportunity  to  satisfy  his  doubts. 

II 

Barry  always  saluted  Richard.  The  army  had  given 
him  his  only  social  training,  and  in  recognizing  the 
difference  in  their  positions  Barry  knew  no  other  form 
of  expression. 

"If  you're  not  in  too  much  of  a  hurry,  Capt'n,  I'd 
like  to  speak  to  you  about  Jack  Munsey." 

Munsey  was  a  Nor  cross  disabled  veteran  to  whom 
Barry  had  been  drawn  by  the  similarity  of  their  afflic- 
tions, for  Munsey 's  right  leg  had  been  amputated  just 
below  the  hip ;  but  his  condition  was  more  serious  ow- 
ing to  tuberculosis  contracted  from  exposure  in  the 
service. 

"How  is  Munsey?  .  .  .  poor  chap!"  Richard  in- 
quired. 

"He  died  last  night,  Capt'n,  .  .  and  that's  what  I 
want  to  speak  to  you  about." 

"Died!"  Richard  exclaimed.  "Oh,  I  should  have 
gone  down  to  see  him,  but  I  have  been  so  tied  up  with 
this  labor  trouble !  Had  his  War  Risk  payments  come 
through?" 

Barry  shook  his  head. 

"No;  that's  what  hurts.  Jack  died  cursin'  out  the 
gov'ment." 

Richard  drew  in  his  breath  sharply. 

"John  Sibley  and  I  are  tryin'  to  raise  enough  money 
to  bury  him,"  Barry  went  on,  "and  I  thought  p'raps 

[123] 


THE    BALANCE 


you'd  like  to  help.     It  can  all  be  paid  back  when  the 
checks  do  come  in." 

"I'll  pay  the  whole  of  it,"  Richard  declared  vehe- 
mently, .  .  "and  to  hell  with  the  checks !" 

"We  wouldn't  want  you  to  do  that,  Capt'n.  I  and 
some  of  his  other  friends  would  like  to  have  a  share  in 
it,  but  we  can't  do  it  all." 

"You  can't  afford  it,  Barry  .  .  ." 

"Oh,  yes ;  I  can."  Barry  smiled.  "I'm  makin'  enough 
now  to  support  myself,  and  when  the  gov'ment  gets 
'round  to  send  me  my  checks  I'll  be  rich!  I  suppose 
they'll  do  it  some  time." 

"How  far  behind  were  they  with  Jack?" 

"Eight  months,  Capt'n.  I  sent  'em  a  telegram  last 
Week,  'Please  hurry  Jack  Munsey's  checks  so  he  can 
sign  'em  before  he  dies  to  pay  for  funeral,'  but  I  guess 
it  just  made  'em  laugh  in  Washington.  They  prob'ly 
thought  I  was  kiddin'  'em.  But  it  does  hurt  to  hear 
a  chap  like  Jack  curse  out  his  own  gov'ment,  don't  it, 
Capt'n?" 

"Barry,"  Richard  said,  controlling  himself  and  plac- 
ing one  hand  on  his  companion's  shoulder,  "don't  get 
me  started,  for  things  like  this  make  me  see  red.  Thank 
God  we're  near  the  end  of  this  administration  which 
plays  politics  while  men  like  Jack  Munsey  die  in  pov- 
erty !" 

"But  we  mustn't  lose  faith  in  our  country,  must  we, 
Capt'n?  The  trouble  isn't  with  our  country.  We 
wouldn't  ask  anythin'  better  than  a  chance  to  fight  for 
her  again,  would  we,  Capt'n?" 

Richard  looked  at  Barry  admiringly. 
[124] 


THE    BALANCE 


"If  you  can  say  that  after  the  way  you've  been 
treated,  and  what  you've  seen  of  the  neglect  of  other 
disabled  boys,  I'll  say  so;  but  I  wouldn't  have  agreed 
to  that  five  minutes  ago.  Don't  you  ever  complain  of 
your  experiences?" 

Barry  smiled  sheepishly. 

"I  wouldn't  like  to  have  you  ask  Miss  Lola  that,"  he 
said.  "You  should  have  heard  me  rave  in  her  hospital ! 
But  my  case  was  a  joke.  As  long  as  I  had  lost  a  leg, 
they  thought  they  knew  what  to  do  with  me,  so  I  was 
shipped  out  to  Seattle  to  be  made  a  master  mechanic 
by  the  Vocational  Board.  I'm  afraid  I  wouldn't  have 
lasted  long  indoors,  but  I  had  the  luck  to  get  the  flu. 
Then  I  couldn't  work,  so  the  Vocational  Board  turned 
me  back  to  the  army,  but  the  army  didn't  have  any 
appropriation  to  take  care  of  me,  and  they  sure  were 
embarrassed.  After  waitin'  a  couple  of  months  for  'em 
to  decide  what  to  do  next,  I  hocked  my  overcoat  and 
watch  and  beat  it  for  Miss  Lola.  You  see  I  was  in 
luck  all  the  way  through." 

"Yes,"  Richard  acknowledged,  with  a  curious  expres- 
sion on  his  face ;  "you  were  surely  in  luck  all  the  way 
through,  .  .  and  particularly  when  you  fell  into  Miss 
Lola's  hands." 

"That's  it,"  Barry  cried  eagerly.  "She  understands. 
And  say,  Capt'n,  Miss  Lola's  been  through  just  as  much 
as  any  of  us.  She's  a  real  veteran  all  right,  and  she 
ought  to  wear  stripes  on  her  arm,  .  .  only  her  wounds 
aren't  where  you  can  see  'em." 

Richard  looked  up  quickly. 

"I'm  doin'  all  I  can  to  pay  her  back  for  what  she 
[125] 


THE    BALANCE 


did  for  me,"  Barry  hurried  on;  "but  it's  too  big  a  job 
for  me  to  swing  alone.  If  you  could  see  her  face  some- 
times, Capt'n,  with  the  tears  just  glistenin'  in  her  eyes, 
it  would  bring  a  lump  in  your  throat  just  as  it  does 
in  mine.  When  any  one  outside  the  family  comes  'round 
she  bucks  up,  so  p'raps  you  haven't  noticed  it.  Bein' 
so  fond  of  her  as  I  know  you  are,  I  thought  p'raps  you 
wouldn't  mind  my  speakin'  of  it." 

"You're  a  good  old  scout,  Barry."  Richard  clapped 
him  on  the  shoulder.  "You  keep  right  on  watching  over 
Miss  Lola  while  I'm  kept  busy  with  the  men  at  the  plant. 
After  that's  settled,  we'll  join  forces  and  see  what  we 
can  do  to  bring  the  roses  back  to  her  cheeks  and  the 
laughter  to  her  eyes  .  .  .  Let  me  know  how  much  I 
may  stand  on  the  expenses  for  Jack  .  .  .  Poor  chap! 
Good  night,  Barry." 

Ill 

After  watching  Richard  stride  off,  Barry  hobbled 
back  toward  the  house.  He  was  fortunate  enough  to 
discover  the  object  of  his  search,  for  Lola  was  leaning 
against  a  pillar  of  the  loggia,  watching  the  brilliancy  of 
the  setting  sun.  But  whatever  her  eyes  might  see,  what- 
ever her  resolutions,  her  thoughts  were  still  centered 
upon  Richard.  He  could  not  realize  how  cruel  he  had 
been  to  her.  It  was  she  who  had  forced  him  into  the 
very  position  which  now  gave  him  such  satisfaction, 
yet  he  seemed  so  blissfully  unconscious  of  it  that  what- 
ever credit  there  was  to  give  went  to  this  factory-girl, 
whose  name  was  already  too  intimately  associated  with 
his.     In  Richard's  emancipation  she  had  touched  the 

[126] 


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heights,  but  only  for  a  moment;  the  aftermath  was  al- 
most more  than  she  could  bear  ...  It  was  Lola  the 
women  rather  than  Lola  the  war-worker  who  leaned 
against  the  pillar. 

As  Barry  approached  her  she  turned  toward  him 
and  smiled  consciously. 

"Isn't  it  beautiful?" 

"Yes,  Miss  Lola.  There's  an  awful  lot  of  beautiful 
things  in  this  world  if  you  know  where  to  look  for  'em, 
and  if  you  keep  on  lookin'  for  'em  you  don't  have  time 
to  worry  about  the  ugly  ones.  The  real  job  is  to  keep 
on  lookin',  isn't  it,  Miss  Lola?" 

"Yes,  Barry;  and  that  is  a  real  job,  as  you  say. 
Sometimes  I  feel  that  I've  done  nothing  but  look  since 
I  came  home,  and  that  I  have  found  nothing." 

"You  haven't  found  any  thin'  beautiful,  Miss  Lola?" 
he  asked,  surprise  and  disappointment  showing  in  his 
voice. 

"I  don't  mean  quite  that,"  she  explained.  "When 
you  spoke  of  the  beautiful  things  in  the  world  you 
didn't  mean  the  beauty  of  the  sunset  or  of  the  flowers. 
These  are  wonderful,  of  course,  but  the  beauties  I 
have  looked  for  and  failed  to  find  are  those  of  human 
life,  .  .  unselfishness,  appreciation,  [helpfulness,  and 
sympathy.  I  came  home,  Barry,  full  of  eagerness  to 
carry  on  right  here  in  Norcross  the  work  I  had  learned 
to  do  over  there.  I  knew  the  need  existed,  and  believed 
the  opportunity  would  be  waiting  for  me." 

"I  guess  you  found  both  the  need  and  the  opportunity 
all  right  .  .  ." 

"Yes,  Barry;  but  not  the  co-operation  or  the  un- 
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derstanding.  Why,  even  today  I  heard  some  one  ask 
why  the  Red  Cross  had  to  carry  on  any  more !  The  way 
the  people  responded  to  the  war  demands  was  magni- 
ficent; their  failure  to  recognize  the  aftermath  is  dis- 
graceful. I've  wanted  to  go  right  back  to  France; 
Barry,  where  people  understand!'* 

"I'm  glad  you  didn't,  Miss  Lola,"  he  said  soberly; 
"but  I  suppose  that's  selfish,  too.  You  and  my  wooden 
leg  have  made  a  man  out  of  me,  and  there  are  lots  of 
us  boys  here  in  Norcross  who  think  you  ought  to  have 
a  colored  glass  window  in  the  church;  but  of  course  in 
France  you  could  have  helped  a  lot  more  fellers  like  us. 
We're  all  selfish,  Miss  Lola,  when  it  comes  right  down 
to  ourselves,  aren't  we?" 

"No,  Barry,  .  ."  she  said  emphatically.  "If  it 
hadn't  been  for  you  and  the  other  boys,  I  should  have 
gone  back,  but  the  fact  that  you  needed  me  helped  me 
to  forget  my  disappointment.  What  you  boys  have 
done  for  me  has  been  far  more  than  anything  I  could 
ever  do  for  you,  but  you  don't  need  me  now,  and  I'm 
wondering  .  .  ." 

"The  Capt'n  needs  you  .   .    .  "  he  said  unexpectedly. 

Lola  looked  at  him  quickly.  Her  protege  was  rap- 
idly acquiring  intuition. 

"I  don't  believe  he  does,  Barry,"  she  replied  quietly. 
"I  think  he  has  found  himself  now  in  his  work  with 
the  men." 

"But  that  never  takes  the  place  of  what  a  woman 
can  do,  Miss  Lola.  I  was  just  talkin'  with  the 
Capt'n  .  .  ." 

Lola's  sudden  look  interrupted  him. 
[128] 


THE    BALANCE 


"Oh,  no !"  he  exclaimed  with  quick  comprehension ; 
"you  know  I  wouldn't  speak  of  what  we  talked  about. 
But  we  did  speak  of  you  .  .  .  just  casual  like,  .  .  and 
say  .  ,  .  the  Capt'n  sure  does  think  a  heap  of  you!" 

"I  hope  so,  Barry,"  Lola  said  simply,  holding  out 
her  hand. 

Barry  seized  it  eagerly,  and  an  expression  came  into 
his  face  which  Lola  had  never  seen  there  before. 

"That's  nothin'  strange,"  he  added  in  a  low  voice. 
"Any  man  who  didn't  would  be  blind  in  both  eyes  and 
wooden  all  over." 


[129] 


CHAPTER     XIII 


WHENEVER  James  Norton's  emotions  were 
affected,  his  immediate  reaction  was  to  plunge 
more  furiously  into  his  work.  Lately  he  had 
experienced  a  series  of  emotional  shocks,  and  as  a  re- 
sult his  activities  were  correspondingly  abnormal.  His 
office  hours,  longer  than  those  of  any  other  employee 
of  the  Company,  were  crowded  with  hectic  routine, 
which  present-day  executives  delegate  to  subordinates. 
A  manager  in  another  business,  who  made  the  state- 
ment in  his  hearing  that  for  a  highly-paid  executive 
to  do  any  work  which  could  be  performed  by  one  draw- 
ing a  smaller  salary  was  a  waste  of  the  company's 
money,  incurred  Norton's  instant  distrust.  Except 
for  his  tremendous  dynamic  power,  he  could  never  have 
met  the  demands  of  his  position  with  his  days  so  clogged 
by  minor  details.  As  it  was,  the  physical  effort  re- 
quired to  drive  the  machine  over  an  uncharted  route 
so  pulled  upon  his  vitality  that,  had  he  realized  it,  his 
capacity  was  needlessly  impaired. 

Norton  had  always  done  this.  It  was  his  idea  of 
work,  and  he  considered  the  modern  notion  that  vaca- 
tions and  occasional  afternoons  at  golf  made  a  man 
more  valuable  to  his  business  was  the  specious  invention 

[130] 


THE    BALANCE 


of  sloths  and  idlers.  His  favorite  boast  was  that  he 
had  never  taken  a  vacation,  and  he  failed  to  observe, 
so  gradual  came  the  transition  in  public  opinion,  that 
the  earlier  expression  of  wonder  and  approval  on  the 
part  of  his  hearers  was  now  rather  that  of  pity  or 
surprise. 

"The  world  has  gone  crazy,"  he  would  tell  Treadway, 
when  his  secretary  reported  that  the  head  of  some  con- 
cern was  "out  of  town"  or  "away  on  a  vacation." 
"How  they  keep  things  going  is  beyond  my  understand- 
ing. They  don't,  that's  all,"  he  would  say  conclusively ; 
"other  people,  who  aren't  afraid  to  work,  are  holding 
down  their  jobs  for  them.  That's  the  answer  ...  I 
don't  see  how  they  get  away  with  it." 

Now  the  office  hours  extended  into  the  evening,  and 
James  Norton  might  be  found  at  his  desk  in  his  library 
at  home,  carrying  on  the  routine  of  his  work  with  noth- 
ing changed  but  the  surroundings.  This  was  a  trial 
to  Treadway,  for  when  his  master's  idiosyncracies  de- 
prived him  of  his  own  leisure  for  relaxation  his  enthu- 
siastic approval  of  the  Norton  idea  became  somewhat 
modified.  But  it  still  served  Treadway's  purpose  to 
play  close  to  James  Norton,  so  he  uncomplainingly 
sacrificed  whatever  of  his  personal  time  was  demanded, 
charging  it  off  to  profit  and  loss. 

"All  this  is  having  a  demoralizing  influence  on  the 
younger  men,"  Norton  declared  one  evening  when  feel- 
ing particularly  resentful  .  .  .  "they're  getting  where 
they  think  that  anything  to  do  with  honest  labor  con- 
taminates them.  They'd  rather  talk  about  life  being  a 
representation  of  art  and  all  that  sort  of  thing." 

[131] 


THE    BALANCE 


"Don't  you  think  that  is  a  phase  which  disappears 
after  experience  teaches  them  what  they  are  really  up 
against  ?" 

"Yes,  I  do,"  the  older  man  admitted;  "but  that 
doesn't  keep  it  from  being  an  additional  obstacle  to 
overcome  in  driving  common-sense  ideas  into  their 
heads  .  .  .  and  there  were  obstacles  enough  before." 

Treadway  was  delighted  to  match  his  mind  against 
the  master's,  for  such  opportunities  came  but  seldom. 
Norton  rarely  argued  .  .  .  usually  he  told  him.  The 
secretary's  retentive  mind  supplied  material  absorbed 
from  a  recent  lecture,  but  easily  made  his  own  for  the 
purpose  of  the  present  discussion. 

"Yet  we  must  admit  the  value  of  leisure  to  our  civi- 
lization," he  contended,  assuming  the  attitude  of  an 
oracle.  "Leisure  produces  culture,  and  culture  has 
interpreted  man  to  man ;  it  has  explored  the  mind  and 
rediscovered  past  explorations;  it  has  developed  scien- 
tists as  well  as  artists,  whose  contribution  to  civilization 
has  been  to  lay  the  foundation  upon  which  were  built 
the  colossal  minds  which  conceived  the  machines  that 
rule  the  commercial  world  today." 

Norton  listened,  highly  amused. 

"Who  told  you  all  that,  Treadway?  It  sounds  to 
me  like  a  Lowell  lecture  .  .  .  You  expect  me  to  dis- 
agree with  you,  but  I  don't.  Everything  you  have  just 
quoted  is  correct,  but  it  stops  short  of  facts.  Always 
beware  of  half-truths,  Treadway,  .  »  they're  danger- 
ous ...  Of  course  culture  has  played  its  part,  but 
what  could  it  have  accomplished  without  commerce? 
It  has  been  commercialism  that  has  applied  the  wisdom 

[132] 


THE    BALANCE 


of  the  ages  toward  the  advancement  of  the  welfare  of 
mankind.  Ask  yourself  where  medicine  and  education 
and  art  and  science  would  be  today  except  for  the  mil- 
lions of  dollars  contributed  by  men  who  contaminated 
themselves  by  work.  I  don't  object  to  a  man  being  an 
artist  or  a  golf  player  if  he  wants  to,  provided  he  has 
earned  the  right  to  his  leisure  by  hard  work.  What 
I  don't  like  is  to  have  him  half  business  man  and  half 
loafer.  Nearly  every  one  who  looks  down  on  labor 
owes  his  present  leisure  to  the  contaminating  but  pro- 
ductive efforts  of  his  ancestors.  My  code,  Treadway, 
is  that  every  man  should  be  forced  to  make  his  con- 
tribution to  society." 

"I  agree  with  you  .  .  ." 

"Of  course  you  do !  You  can't  fool  me  by  getting 
off  that  half-baked,  high-brow  stuff  that  is  all  right 
as  far  as  it  goes,  but  always  stops  short  of  the  prac- 
tical. You  are  one  of  the  few  who  have  the  right  idea, 
Treadway.  Work  is  the  salvation  of  man,  and  he 
comes  to  his  full  development  only  through  work.  If 
I  have  taught  you  that  lesson  it  will  be  worth  more  than 
all  the  money  I  ever  paid  you." 

"My  theory  of  life  is  to  concentrate,"  Treadway 
acquiesced  by  repeating  his  favorite  slogan,  .  .  "work 
while  I  work  and  play  while  I  play." 

"That's  all  right  so  long  as  you  keep  the  proportion 
well  on  the  side  of  work,"  the  master  agreed ;  "but  work 
itself  is  play  if  you  go  at  it  right,  .  .  don't  forget  that. 
That  is  why  I  never  took  up  these  new-fangled  ideas. 
Leisure  bores  me.  You  don't  find  these  evenings  here 
at  the  house  very  hard  work,  eh,  Treadway?     Change 

[133] 


THE    BALANCE 


of  scene,  chance  to  smoke  and  relax,  opportunity  to 
learn  more  about  the  business,  .  .  couldn't  ask  for 
much  better  play  than  that,  could  you?" 

Then  a  cloud  passed  over  the  old  man's  face. 

"This  is  where  Richard  ought  to  be  this  minute,"  he 
muttered,  "learning  the  business  and  helping  his 
father." 

"Do  you  think  it  would  be  a  good  idea  if  I  were  to 
have  a  talk  with  Richard?"  Treadway  asked,  confident 
that  his  suggestion  would  never  be  accepted.  "Perhaps, 
being  about  his  age,  I  could  approach  him  from  his  own 
standpoint  and  bring  him  to  our  way  of  thinking." 

"You  change  Richard!"  Norton  demanded  incredu- 
lously. "There  would  be  more  chance  of  his  converting 
you!  Richard  has  more  brains  in  his  head  than  any 
youngster  in  the  plant,  Treadway,  if  he'd  only  make  a 
proper  use  of  them.  No,  you're  not  in  Richard's  class. 
You're  more  comfortable  to  have  around,  .  .  you  prob- 
ably wouldn't  be  if  you  were  as  smart  as  he  is  .  .  . 
Come,  we're  wasting  a  lot  of  valuable  time." 

Treadway's  face  flushed,  but  he  made  no  retort  to 
his  master's  uncomplimentary  estimate  of  his  capacity. 
Some  time,  perhaps,  James  Norton  might  find  occasion 
to  change  his  opinion. 

II 

Later  in  the  evening  Hannah  announced  Mr.  Henry- 
Cross.     Norton  could  not  believe  his  ears. 

"Sure  you  got  that  name  right,  Hannah?"  he  de- 
manded. 

"Yes,  sir;  it's  Mr.  Henry  Cross  all  right." 
[134] 


THE    BALANCE 


"What  is  that  hypocrite  doing  here,"  he  exclaimed, 
more  to  himself  than  to  Treadway,  "away  from  his 
Bibles  and  bargains?  Show  him  in  .  .  .  show  him 
in  .  .  ." 

Norton  waved  his  hand,  and  Hannah  noiselessly  de- 
parted. 

The  master's  eye  did  not  return  to  the  papers  on  the 
desk  before  him,  but  remained  fixed  on  the  door  through 
which  his  caller  must  enter.  The  suspense  was  not  of 
long  duration,  but  Treadway  had  a  fairly  definite  idea 
of  what  was  passing  through  his  chief's  mind.  Even 
for  a  moment  after  Cross  stood  before  the  well-littered 
desk,  the  two  men  glared  at  each  other  without  speak- 
ing.   It  was  Norton  who  broke  the  silence. 

"This  is  an  honor  I  hadn't  expected,"  he  said  crisply. 
"If  it's  a  social  call,  I'll  get  up  and  treat  you  as  a  guest 
ought  to  be  treated;  if  it  isn't,  you  may  stand  or  sit, 
as  you  choose,  and  state  your  business." 

Henry  Cross  took  no  offence  at  the  brusque  recep- 
tion. He  drew  a  chair  closer  to  the  desk  and  seated 
himself  with  marked  deliberation. 

"This  is  a  business  call,"  he  admitted;  "and  I  should 
have  thought  I  was  in  the  wrong  pew  if  you'd  shown 
any  civility." 

With  these  preliminaries  over,  the  two  men  again 
glared,  each  waiting  for  the  other  to  say  something. 
This  time  Cross  took  the  initiative. 

"My  business  is  fairly  personal,"  he  announced, 
glancing  significantly  at  Treadway. 

"Go  ahead  with  it.  My  secretary  is  familiar  with 
my  personal  affairs." 

[135] 


THE    BALANCE 


Cross  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"As  you  like,"  he  commented  genially.  "I  generally 
cut  out  the  Man  Fridays  when  I  discuss  private  mat- 
ters.   But  it  is  your  affair." 

"It  is,"  Norton  snapped.  "Get  down  to  business. 
Can't  you  see  that  you're  interrupting  me?" 

"Sorry,"  Cross  apologized. 

Then  he  shifted  his  legs  and  meditated  for  a  moment. 

"Want  to  sell  your  bank  stock?"  he  asked  abruptly. 

"My  bank  stock?  What  are  you  talking  about? 
It  is  not  for  sale,  and  you  know  it." 

Again  Cross  shrugged  his  shoulders  imperturbably. 

"Thought  you  might,  that's  all.  I've  taken  a  fancy 
to  that  bank  stock,  and  I  come  pretty  close  to  holding 
the  control.  A  little  block  of  yours  would  give  it  to 
me.  Then  I  could  elect  myself  president,  as  you  did, 
and  sit  in  that  office  with  all  the  mahogany  fixings,  and 
feel  I  really  was  somebody." 

"You're  crazy,  man !"  Norton  cried,  trying  to 
fathom  the  motive  which  lay  behind  the  apparent  frank- 
ness of  the  statement  Cross  made.  Norton  and  Stew- 
art held  the  control  of  the  bank  stock,  so  he  cared  lit- 
tle who  owned  the  balance,  but  Henry  Cross  was  not  a 
man  to  make  such  a  fool  proposition  without  something 
in  the  back  of  his  head. 

"I'm  not  an  idiot,"  Norton  continued,  "and  I  give 
you  credit  for  having  some  common  sense.  What's  the 
idea  of  making  me  a  proposition  you  know  can't  be  put 
through?" 

"I'm  not  so  sure  it  can't." 

"Well,  I  am;  so  let's  cut  it  short." 
[136] 


THE    BALANCE 


In  spite  of  the  invitation,  Cross  showed  no  inclina- 
tion to  rise  from  his  comfortable  seat. 

"How  are  the  Company's  affairs?"  he  asked  casu- 
ally, shifting  the  subject  abruptly. 

"That's  my  business." 

"I  know  it  is,  and  I'm  thinking  some  of  asking  you 
to  attend  to  it.  Having  some  difficulty  in  getting  the 
banks  to  take  your  paper,  aren't  you?" 

"You  damned,  impertinent  .  .  ." 

"Go  easy  ...  go  easy,"  Cross  stopped  his  outburst. 
"I've  got  a  reason  for  asking  and  a  right  to  know.  I 
hold  a  lot  of  the  notes  of  the  Norton  Manufacturing 
Company,  and  I  want  to  have  your  assurance  that  my 
money  is  safe." 

"Where  did  you  get  hold  of  any  of  our  paper?"  Nor- 
ton demanded,  but  he  looked  to  Treadway  for  the 
answer.  As  the  secretary  seemed  equally  mystified, 
his  glance  returned  to  Cross. 

"Oh,  you've  been  using  my  money  in  your  business  for 
the  past  eighteen  months,"  Cross  enlightened  him. 
"The  Norton  Manufacturing  Company  means  a  lot  to 
this  town,  and  when  I  found  out  that  you  were  expand- 
ing beyond  what  the  banks  would  carry  you,  I  thought 
it  would  be  public-spirited  to  help  you  out.  Now  that 
money  is  so  tight,  I  wanted  to  be  sure  I  wasn't  taking 
too  much  risk." 

"You  reptile !"  Norton  exclaimed.  "You  .  .  .  pub- 
lic spirited !  You  would  like  nothing  better  than  to  see 
the  Company  smashed  .  .  ." 

"Calling  names  doesn't  pay  notes,"  Cross  observed. 
"I  have  nothing  against  the  Company,  but  the  time 

[137] 


THE    BALANCE 


is  here  right  now  for  you  and  me  to  have  a  show  down. 
I  hold  a  bunch  of  your  obligations  coming  due  during 
the  next  thirty  days,  and  I  have  a  right  to  know  whether 
you're  going  to  meet  them." 

"Of  course  we'll  meet  them  .  ,  .  How  much  do  you 
hold?" 

"Oh,  a  little  matter  of  between  two  hundred  and  three 
hundred  thousand." 

"What!"  Norton  cried,  surprised  into  showing  his 
amazement.  "I  don't  believe  you  hold  twenty  thou- 
sand !" 

"Thought  you  might  need  convincing,"  Cross  drew 
a  package  of  papers  from  his  pocket,  "so  I  brought 
these  along." 

"Let  me  look  at  them." 

Cross  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  handed  the  pack- 
age to  Norton. 

"Guess  I  can  trust  you,"  he  remarked,  dryly. 

Norton  started  to  make  a  retort,  but  he  was  more 
interested  in  the  papers  before  him.  He  rapidly  tabu- 
lated the  dates  and  the  amounts. 

"Not  far  from  right,  was  I?"  Cross  inquired.  "Two 
hundred  and  sixty-eight  thousand,  isn't  it?" 

"Yes,"  Norton  acknowledged;  a  calmness  coming 
over  him  which  was  in  strange  contrast  with  his  pre- 
vious attitude. 

"That's  a  lot  of  money  to  raise  in  thirty  days  with 
the  market  the  way  it  is,"  the  caller  suggested. 

Norton  started  suddenly  as  he  turned  the  notes  over 
in  his  hand.  Then  he  reached  for  his  magnifying  glass 
and  scrutinized   them  carefully,   checking  off  certain 

[138] 


THE    BALANCE 


items  on  his  list.  Treadway  watched  him  with  obvious 
interest. 

"Aren't  they  big  enough  without  putting  a  magnify- 
ing glass  on  them?"  Cross  inquired  jocosely;  but  Nor- 
ton paid  no  attention  to  him  .  .  .  "If  you  care  to  sell 
enough  of  your  bank  stock  to  give  me  control,"  he  con- 
tinued, "I  might  be  inclined  to  extend  some  of  those 
notes." 

Norton  handed  the  package  back  to  him.  Then  his 
choler  returned,  and  he  shook  his  fist  menacingly  in 
Cross's  face. 

"You'll  be  paid  every  cent  that's  due  you  on  the 
day  it  matures,"  he  declared,  .  .  "every  cent  that's 
due  you,"  Norton  repeated  with  careful  emphasis. 

"That's  all  I  wanted  to  hear  you  say."  Cross  re- 
stored the  notes  to  his  pocket  and  rose.  "But  if  any- 
thing happens  between  now  and  then  you  might  re- 
member my  proposition.  It  will  still  hold  good.  Good 
night." 

Ill 

Norton  watched  him  as  he  departed.  As  the  door 
closed  behind  him  he  turned  excitedly  to  his  secretary. 

"Treadway,"  he  cried,  "at  last  we've  got  that  old  ras- 
cal where  we  want  him!  On  four  of  those  notes  both 
signatures  are  forged !  We'll  wait  until  he  presents  the 
first  one  of  these,  and  then  .  .  ." 

It  was  not  necessary  for  Norton  to  complete  his 
sentence.    Treadway  understood  him  perfectly. 


[139] 


CHAPTER     XIV 


WHEN  Lola  undertook  to  make  good  her  promise 
to  interest  her  father  on  Richard's  behalf, 
she  encountered  a  well-defined  reluctance  to 
depart  from  his  invariable  practice  of  leaving  the  solu- 
tion of  business  problems  to  others.  When  he  yielded, 
as  he  always  did  to  his  daughter's  persuasion,  the  con- 
cession was  to  his  affection  for  her  rather  than  to  any 
interest  in  the  subject.  Richard  on  his  part  had  asked 
for  the  interview  because  he  was  grasping  at  straws 
which  might  prove  of  service  to  his  cause,  and  not  from 
any  real  confidence  that  Mr.  Stewart  would  prove  of 
the  slightest  assistance. 

The  interview  developed  unexpected  surprises  for 
both.  Beneath  the  polished,  dilettante  exterior,  which 
Richard  had  admired  but  which  he  supposed  to  express 
the  personality  of  the  man,  he  discovered  a  quick  sym- 
pathy, a  clear  understanding,  a  latent  force  which  he 
had  never  suspected.  It  was  obvious  that  these  char- 
acteristics might  have  been  combined  to  make  Wil- 
liam Stewart  a  power  except  for  his  established  habit 
of  moving  along  the  line  of  least  resistance.  The  elder 
man  found  in  the  younger  an  idealism  and  a  purpose  en- 

[140] 


THE    BALANCE 


tirely  at  variance  with  the  impression  he  had  formed 
by  casual  observation,  colored,  it  is  true,  by  the  caustic 
comments  made  by  Richard's  father.  Each  left  the 
conference  with  greater  respect  for  the  other. 

Whether  or  not  Richard's  idealism  could  be  made 
practical  was  another  matter,  and  to  a  consideration 
of  this  Stewart  devoted  much  time  and  thought.  Mov- 
ing along  the  line  of  least  resistance  had  caused  him  to 
be  misjudged  by  others  as  well  as  Richard.  To  oppose 
methods  of  administration  required  time  and  effort, 
and  so  long  as  affairs  proceeded  in  orderly  fashion  and 
in  such  a  way  as  to  yield  satisfactory  returns  upon 
his  investment,  Stewart  preferred  to  devote  himself  to 
more  congenial  subjects. 

Richard,  however,  left  him  with  a  sense  of  obligation 
to  take  a  definite  stand  in  this  crisis.  The  demands 
outlined  by  the  men  were  entirely  at  variance  with  the 
present  policy  of  the  Company,  but  Stewart  kept  him- 
self well-informed,  and  was  sufficiently  in  touch  with 
the  trend  of  the  times  to  realize  that  some  change 
would  inevitably  be  required  in  order  to  reconcile  re- 
lations between  employers  and  employed.  If  there 
was  to  be  a  change,  why  not  recognize  the  necessity 
promptly,  and,  as  Richard  urged,  turn  it  from  a  liabil- 
ity into  an  asset?  All  that  Richard  asked  of  him  was 
his  influence  to  secure  a  hearing  before  the  Board. 
Knowing  James  Norton  as  he  did,  he  understood  why 
the  committee  desired  a  jury  verdict  rather  than  the 
decision  of  a  biased  judge.  His  own  final  conclusion 
need  not  be  rendered  until  after  all  the  evidence  on  both 
sides  had  been  presented. 

[141] 


THE    BALANCE 


II 

"So  the  boy  has  hypnotized  you,  has  he?"  Norton 
commented,  when  Stewart  broached  the  subject.  "Well, 
it  won't  do  him  any  good.  I'm  the  general  manager  of 
this  concern,  and  it's  my  job  to  handle  these  affairs.  If 
the  Directors  don't  agree  with  me,  it's  time  I  stepped 
down  and  out,  and  let  the  men  take  over  the  manage- 
ment. You'll  get  your  chance  to  talk,  William,  when 
I  refer  the  matter  to  the  Board,  but  if  the  men  have 
anything  to  say,  let  them  say  it  to  me.  And  remember 
...  if  there  are  any  signs  of  going  over  my  head,  the 
Directors  must  act  on  my  resignation  first.  That  boy 
is  crazy  and  stubborn,  and  he's  bound  to  stir  up  all  the 
trouble  for  me  he  can." 

"I'm  wondering  if  you  are  not  doing  more  to  make 
trouble  for  yourself  and  for  all  of  us  than  he  is,"  Stew- 
art surprised  Norton  by  taking  a  stand  in  opposition 
to  him.  "Richard  knows  you  won't  listen  to  him,  and 
that  when  you  present  the  question  to  the  Board,  you 
will  give  the  answer  first.  If  you  have  been  reading 
the  papers  lately,  you  must  realize  that  managers  are 
thinking  more  about  men  than  they  used  to.  I'm  not 
sure  that  these  demands  Richard  outlined  to  me  are 
sound  or  just,  but  I  do  know  that  the  workman  today 
wants  to  be  treated  as  an  intelligent  participator  in 
the  concern  which  employs  him  instead  of  merely  as 
a  seller  of  a  commodity.  He  believes  he  has  a  right 
to  be  consulted,  to  have  things  explained  to  him  instead 
of  being  the  target  for  orders  thrown  at  him  arbitrarily. 
He  has  self-respect,  just  as  you  and  I  have,  James,  and 

[142] 


THE    BALANCE 


to  maintain  it  he  insists  on  self-expression  and  self- 
determination." 

"I  never  expected  to  hear  this  heresy  from  one  of 
my  Directors,"  Norton  exclaimed  doggedly.  "It's  curi- 
ous that  idea  has  never  come  to  you  before." 

"I  don't  wonder  you  are  surprised,"  Stewart  ad- 
mitted. "I've  been  content  to  go  on  as  we  have  gone 
for  twenty-five  years,  giving  as  little  as  possible  and 
getting  as  much  as  we  could,  but  I'm  not  blind  to  the 
fact  that  we  can't  do  that  any  longer.  We  don't  need 
to  discuss  the  ethics  .  .  .  the  fact  is  enough.  The 
world  today  is  determined  to  found  itself  on  political 
democracy,  and  that  is  fundamentally  dependent  upon 
industrial  democracy.  Richard  has  asked  to  present 
the  case  for  the  men.  Because  of  the  relations  existing 
between  you  and  him,  he  naturally  questions  your  abil- 
ity to  be  impartial.  Some  change  is  inevitable.  If  we 
don't  recognize  this  voluntarily,  it  will  be  forced  on  us. 
If  we  show  our  willingness  to  co-operate,  we  can  un- 
doubtedly make  better  terms  than  when  the  men  have 
demonstrated  their  power." 

"I  guess  I've  outlived  my  usefulness,"  Norton  replied 
bitterly.  "If  this  movement  to  take  the  control  of 
business  out  of  the  hands  of  those  who  created  it  and 
turn  it  over  to  the  workmen  can  appeal  to  men  like  you, 
then  my  experience  of  forty  years  goes  by  the  board. 
But  get  this,  William,  .  .  so  long  as  I  remain  the  head 
of  this  concern,  I'll  run  it.  If  you  persuade  the  Di- 
rectors to  side  with  you,  then  I'll  get  out  and  let  you 
handle  things  as  you  like.  Until  then,  I'm  boss,  .  . 
and  that  goes." 

[143] 


THE    BALANCE 


III 

Stewart  reported  to  Richard  the  failure  of  his  efforts 
to  influence  the  older  man's  attitude,  and  advised  him 
to  present  his  case  to  his  father  in  due  form,  promising 
to  support  it  in  the  hearing  before  the  Board  when 
it  was  referred  to  them  for  discussion ;  but  he  held  out 
little  hope  for  success.  The  Directors  had  so  long 
looked  upon  James  Norton  as  their  business  mentor 
that  his  judgment  would  inevitably  be  accepted  as  final. 

"It  is  only  because  it  affects  their  personal  interests 
so  deeply  that  I  believe  it  possible,"  Richard  explained, 
refusing  to  abandon  hope.  "The  men  are  in  a  danger- 
ous frame  of  mind.  It  is  only  right  that  I  should  warn 
you." 

"I  appreciate  their  earnestness,  but  I  doubt  if  there 
is  really  any  likelihood  of  violence,"  Stewart  deprecated 
his  companion's  apprehensions.  "Frankly,  I  am  more 
concerned  just  now  about  you.  I  believe  you  are  on 
the  right  track,  and  I  don't  want  you  to  give  up. 
Something  must  be  done  to  preserve  the  balance.  The 
scales  must  be  steadied.  Perhaps  yours  is  the  hand  to 
do  it.  Don't  be  discouraged.  Everything  has  to  have 
a  beginning,  and  you  will  be  making  history  if  you  suc- 
ceed in  planting  some  of  the  seeds  of  this  idea  where 
later  they  may  produce  fruit." 

"It  is  playing  a  game  when  you  know  the  dice  are 
loaded,"  Richard  demurred;  "but  your  sympathy  is 
most  helpful,  and  I'll  carry  my  part  through." 


[144] 


THE    BALANCE 


IV 

So  Richard  headed  the  committee  which  visited  James 
Norton,  and  presented  the  demands  made  by  the  men. 
Treadway  alone  was  with  his  chief ;  with  Richard  were 
Alec  Sterling  and  Tony  Lemholtz,  the  latter  sullenly 
representing  the  radical  wing  of  the  union,  still  for- 
tunately in  the  minority.  Norton  looked  the  committee 
over  critically  and  in  silence,  the  expression  on  his  face 
evidencing  to  Richard,  before  a  word  was  spoken,  the 
hopelessness  of  the  appeal. 

"This  is  an  interesting  combination,"  Norton  com- 
mented as  he  completed  his  survey.  "Lemholtz  was  to 
be  expected,  for  he  has  stirred  up  most  of  the  trouble 
we  have  previously  had,  but  even  he  seems  ill  at  ease 
with  the  other  members  of  the  committee.  Sterling, 
my  trusted  right-hand  man,  in  my  employ  for  twenty 
years,  and  raised  by  me  during  that  time  from  ordinary 
workman  to  superintendent  of  my  plant;  my  son,  flesh 
of  my  flesh,  whom  I  have  brought  up  from  birth.  These 
two  recipients  of  my  affection  and  my  favors  now  league 
themselves  with  the  professional  labor  agitator  in  the 
edifying  attempt  to  undo  the  work  of  my  life-time,  to 
destroy  the  business  which  has  sustained  thousands  of 
loyal  workmen  and  their  families  for  a  quarter  of  a 
century.  An  interesting  combination!  Gentlemen,  .  . 
I  suppose  I  should  say  gentlemen,  ,  .  kindly  state  your 
business." 

Richard's  face  flushed  crimson  as  he  listened  to  his 
father's  insulting  comments,  but  he  choked  down  the 
hot  reply  which  forced  itself  to  his  lips.  It  was  not  for 
him  to  add  to  the  bitterness.    Hopeless  as  the  situation 

[145] 


THE    BALANCE 


was,  this  was  his  only  chance,  and  he  was  determined 
to  make  the  most  of  it.  He  read  the  brief  statements 
which  outlined  the  demands  for  the  new  industrial  re- 
lations, then  he  enlarged  on  the  advantages  to  be  gained 
by  the  combined  efforts  of  employer  and  employed 
working  on  a  common  basis  toward  a  common  end. 
He  pointed  out  the  importance  of  eliminating  discon- 
tent and  trouble,  which  disappear  when  co-operation  re- 
places competition.  He  urged  that  when  business  con- 
sisted in  making  men,  the  operation  of  business  took 
care  of  itself ;  that  management,  instead  of  asking  their 
men  to  work  for  them  should  work  with  them ;  that  there 
should  no  longer  be  a  distinction  between  those  who 
work  for  money  and  those  who  work  with  it ;  that  labor 
should  be  considered  not  only  as  the  product  of  the 
hands  but  of  the  brain  as  well ;  that  with  the  incentive 
given  by  factory-representation  and  its  guarantee  of 
fair  play,  the  men  would  instinctively  give  their  best 
efforts  to  their  production ;  and  finally,  to  show  that  his 
plea  was  based  upon  a  practical  foundation,  he  demon- 
strated that  what  the  men  asked  had  already  been 
granted  in  establishments  larger  than  the  Norton  Man- 
ufacturing Company,  where  the  plan  was  working  out 
to  the  advantage  of  all   concerned. 

Never  had  Richard  translated  so  much  of  himself 
into  words,  never  had  he  plead  so  earnestly  for  a  fair 
consideration  of  the  claims  he  made  on  behalf  of  the 
men.  When  he  finished  he  was  physically  exhausted, 
but  his  eye  eagerly  sought  his  father's  face  to  see  if 
he  had  succeeded  in  making  even  a  dent  in  his  impene- 
trable hardness. 

[146] 


THE    BALANCE 


"Why,  Richard,"  Norton  said,  a  half  smile  relieving 
his  supercilious  expression,  "you  really  are  quite  an 
orator !  I  had  no  idea  of  it !  But  it's  wasted  in  busi- 
ness, my  boy.  We  must  get  you  into  politics  .  .  . 
Have  the  other  members  of  the  committee  anything 
to  add?" 

"If  you  treat  lightly  what  Richard  has  said  you  will 
bring  the  house  down  upon  your  head,"  Sterling  de- 
clared gravely,  aroused  from  his  usual  calm  by  Nor- 
ton's insolence.  "I  went  on  this  committee  to  repre- 
sent the  conservative  men  who  want  to  prevent  violence, 
but  if  you  don't  accept  the  situation  as  a  serious  one, 
we  will  be  powerless  to  keep  things  under  control." 

Norton  was  bound  to  listen  to  Sterling's  warning 
for  he  had  reason  to  respect  the  big,  raw-boned  Scotch- 
man, even  though  the  superintendent's  method  of  con- 
trol differed  so  radically  from  his  own.  Sterling  ruled 
through  the  exercise  of  human  instincts  rather  than 
through  fear,  and  knowing  how  cordially  the  men  hated 
their  chief,  he  had  prevented  several  industrial  tragedies 
in  the  past  by  having  the  master's  drastic  orders  filter 
through  him.  Norton  had  never  forgotten  or  forgiven 
Sterling  for  the  consideration  he  showed  his  men,  or 
for  his  efforts  to  maintain  for  them  equitable  working 
conditions,  but  the  superintendent  was  so  beloved  that 
to  do  more  than  criticise  him  for  not  driving  harder 
would  have  precipitated  crises  which  James  Norton  did 
not  care  to  face.  Now,  however,  affairs  had  progressed 
too  far  to  permit  retreat. 

"So  you  threaten,  Sterling!"  he  commented.  "I 
scarcely  expected  that." 

[147] 


THE    BALANCE 


"No,  ,  .  we  don't  threaten,  .  ."  Tony  Lemholtz  re- 
torted sullenly ;  "we  act !" 

"You  have  the  papers,  Treadway?"  Norton  asked, 
turning  to  his  secretary.  "These  will  be  duly  pre- 
sented to  the  Board  of  Directors  as  you  request.  If 
they  act  favorably  on  them,  you  will  find  a  new  manager 
at  the  head  of  the  Norton  Manufacturing  Company. 
If  not  .  .  ."  Norton's  face  darkened  .  .  .  "If  not, 
you  may  strike  and  be  damned!  Inside  of  thirty  days 
I'll  fill  every  vacant  place  with  men  who  are  loyal  and 
willing  to  work  .  .  .  Good  day,  gentlemen !" 


The  three  members  of  the  committee  silently  left  the 
office  and  returned  to  the  works.  Eager  eyes  watched 
them  as  they  passed  through  the  various  departments 
before  separating,  each  again  taking  up  his  suspended 
labor  at  the  point  where  he  had  dropped  it.  Their  fel- 
low-workmen needed  no  report  to  tell  them  that  the 
expected  had  happened,  .  .  that  the  boss  had  given 
them  no  quarter:  the  grave  expression  on  Sterling's 
face,  the  discouragement  which  marked  Richard's  de- 
meanor, and  the  unholy  joy  with  which  Tony  bore  him- 
self, were  eloquent  enough. 

There  was  no  outward  change,  but  to  Richard  the 
air  seemed  to  become  more  tense,  and  the  throb  of  the 
machinery  menacing.  During  his  first  week  in  the 
shop  he  had  heard  the  voice  of  the  machinery  threaten, 
.  .  just  before  Mary  Fennessy  was  caught  in  the  shaft- 
ing and  lost  her  arm.  Now  he  felt  that  it  was  speaking 
the  same  terrifying  language,  talking  for  the  men  and 

[148] 


THE    BALANCE 


for  the  women  whose  giant  slave  it  was,  demanding  for 
them  recognition  and  the  right  to  be  heard.  The  men 
and  women  had  cursed  the  machinery  when  it  took  the 
toll  of  Mary  Fennessy's  arm,  but  the  powerful  monster 
knew  what  it  was  doing !  That  single  tragedy  had  com- 
pelled James  Norton  to  install  safety  appliances  which 
the  law  required  but  had  not  enforced ;  and  what  was  a 
single  arm  as  against  the  protection  of  all  the  workers ! 
Dully,  Richard  asked  himself  what  the  giant  was  trying 
to  say  to  him  now,  and  what  action  it  was  planning  to 
help  him  bring  James  Norton  to  a  realization  that  his 
son  was  not  a  rebellious,  trouble-fomenting  agitator, 
but  an  accredited  messenger  from  Justice,  to  announce 
that  she  had  torn  the  bandage  from  her  eyes  and  dis- 
covered the  inaccuracy  of  her  balances. 


[149] 


CHAPTER     XV 


IF  HENRY  CROSS  succeeded  in  surprising  James 
Norton  by  his  unexpected  call,  the  tables  were 
turned  when  William  Treadway's  name  was  an- 
nounced at  his  own  home.  The  natural  inference  was 
that  Norton  had  decided  to  accept  the  proposition  of 
turning  over  enough  of  the  bank  stock  to  give  Cross 
the  control,  but  Treadway  promptly  assumed  entire 
responsibility  for  the  call.  Cross  was  interested  to 
note  that  the  young  man  seemed  to  have  discarded  some 
of  his  superior  manner  and  was  inclined  to  treat  him 
almost  as  an  equal. 

"I  am  in  rather  a  curious  position,  Mr.  Cross," 
Treadway  explained.  "Of  course,  I  am  Mr.  Norton's 
secretary ;  but  after  all  I  am  in  the  employ  of  the  Com- 
pany, so  I  feel  that  I  should  act  in  the  interests  of 
the  Company  rather  than  those  of  any  individual." 

The  older  man  did  not  as  yet  grasp  the  purport  of 
Treadway's  remarks,  but  he  saw  no  reason  why  he 
should  dispute  them. 

"Mr.  Norton  has  had  smooth  sailing  for  so  many 
years,"  Treadway  went  on,  "that  he  cannot  and  will  not 
bring  himself  to  admit  that  the  Company  is  today  face 

[150] 


THE    BALANCE 


to  face  with  a  crisis.  I  am  not  telling  you  anything 
you  do  not  already  know,  so  there  is  nothing  to  be  lost 
by  frankness.  I  don't  mean  by  this  to  suggest  embar- 
rassment for  the  Company,  for  its  resources  are  tre- 
mendous; but  there  is  no  denying  the  fact  that  it  will 
be  inconvenient  to  meet  all  those  notes  which  you  hold 
on  the  dates  they  come  due." 

"That's  what  I  thought,"  Cross  commented  with  con- 
siderable satisfaction.  "Norton's  bluff  didn't  fool  me 
a  bit." 

"Of  course  not  ...  a  man  with  your  business  acu- 
men and  experience,"  Treadway  agreed. 

"You  heard  what  I  offered  him  as  an  alternative?" 

"Yes ;  that  is  what  I  am  here  to  talk  about." 

"Norton  has  come  'round,  has  he?" 

Treadway  smiled  indulgently. 

"I  thought  you  knew  Mr.  Norton  better  than  that! 
No ;  it  is  from  another  source  that  I  think  possibly  the 
stock  you  desire  might  be  obtained,  and  there  is  a  good 
chance  that  I  could  secure  it  for  you." 

Cross  regarded  his  visitor  critically. 

"Does  this  mean  that  you're  going  to  double-cross 
Norton?"  he  asked  suspiciously. 

"Only  to  the  extent  of  serving  the  Company,"  Tread- 
way explained  quickly.  "It  is  desirable  that  some  of 
these  notes  be  renewed.  The  Directors  realize  this  even 
if  Mr.  Norton  does  not.  If  you  and  I  can  come  to  an 
understanding,  I  think  I  can  help  you." 

"Hm !"  Cross  meditated  .  .  .  "The  only  other  source 
that  stock  could  come  from  would  be  Stewart." 

"Exactly,  .  .  unless  in  the  meantime  some  pressure 
[151] 


THE    BALANCE 


was  brought  to  bear  on  Mr.  Norton  which  would  cause 
him  to  change  his  mind." 

Cross  remained  silent  for  several  moments.  The  situ- 
ation was  even  more  interesting  than  he  had  supposed. 

"Just  what  is  your  proposition?"  he  demanded. 

"It  is  really  accepting  your  proposition  rather  than 
making  a  new  one,"  Treadway  corrected.  "If  you  will 
permit  renewals  on  certain  of  those  notes,  I  will  under- 
take to  secure  enough  of  the  bank  stock  to  give  you  the 
control,  .  .  but  I  must  have  a  little  time  to  make  the 
turn." 

"How  many  of  the  notes,  and  how  much  time?" 

"We  can  take  care  of  all  but  $100,000  without  incon- 
venience. I  will  give  you  renewals  for  these,  extending 
them  six  months,  and  before  they  mature  you  shall 
have  the  stock." 

"All  right,"  Cross  said  crisply  after  a  moment's  con- 
sideration; "I  accept.  Which  notes  do  you  wish  re- 
newed ?" 

Treadway  took  a  small  leather  book  from  his  pocket 
and  made  a  pencil  memorandum  which  he  handed  to 
Cross. 

"These  four,  for  $25,000  each.  I'll  bring  down  the 
new  notes  tonight." 

"And  a  signed  agreement  of  our  understanding." 

"Of  course,"  Treadway  acquiesced;  "but  you  realize 
that  to  put  this  through  we  must  keep  the  matter  be- 
tween ourselves?" 

"Yes,"  Cross  agreed.  "I've  been  waiting  twenty 
years  for  this.  I  guess  I  can  wait  six  months  longer. 
You're  sure  you  can  carry  out  your  promise?" 

[152] 


THE    BALANCE 


"You  have  my  word." 

"True,"  Cross  commented;  "but  I'm  not  sure  how 
much  you've  been  contaminated  by  working  with  James 
Norton." 

"If  you  have  any  question  .  ■.  ."  Treadway  assumed 
his  previous  patronizing  superiority. 

"Oh,  no ;  it's  all  right,"  Cross  said  quickly.  "I  sup- 
pose I'm  a  bit  prejudiced.    I'll  take  a  chance." 

II 

Treadway  left  the  Cross  mansion  with  a  light  step 
and  climbed  the  hill  to  pay  his  respects  to  Lola  Stewart. 
This  was  one  of  his  fortunate  days,  and  he  felt  inclined 
to  take  advantage  of  the  present  favor  of  the  fickle  god- 
dess. He  had  just  rectified  a  mistake,  and  the  ease 
with  which  he  had  accomplished  this  pleased  him.  Any 
one  is  liable  to  make  a  slip,  .  .  to  be  able  to  correct  it 
promptly  and  prevent  it  from  becoming  a  calamity  is 
a  mark  of  genius.  In  six  months'  time  he  would  be  be- 
yond the  need  of  taking  chances,  and  this  period  of 
grace  he  had  just  secured. 

He  found  himself  the  only  caller,  and  this  he  con- 
sidered another  favor  of  fortune.  More  than  this,  Lola 
was  in  a  lighter  mood  than  he  remembered  to  have  seen 
her  for  a  long  time.  Richard's  new  attitude,  had 
Treadway  but  known  it,  lifted  a  world  of  anxiety  from 
Lola's  heart,  and  she  dwelt  on  this  rather  than  on  any 
doubt  as  to  his  loyalty  to  her.  She  had  followed  the 
progress  of  affairs  as  closely  as  she  could  through 
her  father.  From  him  she  learned  of  James  Norton's 
unalterable  antagonism,  but  she  knew  that  this  had 

[153] 


THE    BALANCE 


been  discounted  by  Richard,  and  she  blindly  pinned 
her  faith  on  her  father  and  the  other  Directors.  Tread- 
way  was  a  welcome  caller  today  because  she  counted 
on  him  for  further  information  direct  from  the  foun- 
tain head. 

"How  goes  the  merry  little  battle?"  she  inquired 
lightly. 

"Oh  ...  at  the  plant,  you  mean?     We're  all  set." 

"For  a  strike?" 

"Yes ;  the  men  are  bound  to  have  it,  and  there's  noth- 
ing to  do  but  let  them  learn  their  lesson." 

"But  the  Directors  haven't  passed  on  the  men's  peti- 
tion yet,"  she  suggested. 

Treadway  laughed. 

"The  Directors  are  prayerfully  considering,"  he  ad- 
mitted, .  .  "but  James  Norton  is  ordering  in  the  strike- 
breakers." 

Lola  sobered.  For  the  first  time  she  realized  how  lit- 
tle her  father  figured  in  this  great  corporation  in  spite 
of  his  heavy  holdings.  Treadway  was  an  echo  of  his 
chief,  and  what  he  said  made  it  clear  that  while  James 
Norton  went  through  the  motions  of  consulting  his 
Board  of  Directors,  in  reality  he  considered  them 
scarcely  entitled  to  the  courtesy  of  expressing  their 
opinion!  She  glanced  over  to  the  great  chair  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  veranda  where  her  father  sat 
reading. 

It  was  a  picture  well  worth  looking  at,  for  William 
Stewart's  face  might  have  served  as  model  for  a 
Greek  god,  and  the  beauty  of  its  lines  was  enhanced 
by  the  shaggy  crown  of  pure  white  hair.     She  recalled 

[154] 


THE    BALANCE 


what  he  had  said  to  Dick:  "I  am  at  fault  to  spend 
my  life  assimilating  instead  of  giving  out."  She  had 
demurred  when  he  said  it,  but  now  she  knew  that  he  was 
right.  "Dreams  and  books!"  Until  this  moment  she 
had  been  quite  content  to  have  her  father  what  he  was ; 
now  she  knew  that  she  wished  him  otherwise.  He  was 
right  in  saying  that  she  and  her  mother  had  spoiled 
him,  and  Lola  now  realized  how  unfair  this  had  been 
to  him.  Their  intimacy  had  been  the  sweetest  thing  in 
the  world  to  her,  but  it  had  deprived  her  father  of 
something  Nature  had  intended  him  to  have.  To  have 
encouraged  him  to  hold  his  place  in  the  world  need 
not  have  deprived  her  of  the  delightful  cavalier  or  the 
comforting  confidant,  nor  have  marred  the  fineness  of 
his  finished  gentility.  Because  he  had  been  encouraged 
to  dream,  this  other  .  .  .  the  man  of  action  .  .  .  was 
in  a  position  to  crush  the  very  idealism  of  which  he 
dreamt ! 

Ill 

While  these  thoughts  were  passing  through  Lola's 
mind  Treadway  rambled  on,  content  to  hold  her  an 
apparent  listener.  At  last  he  felt  that  the  moment  had 
arrived  to  play  his  trump  card. 

"I  passed  Dick  and  that  Mirovich  girl  as  I  came  up," 
he  remarked  casually.  "Curious  what  he  sees  in  that 
cheap  little  skirt !  Of  course  she's  pretty  and  all  that, 
but  .  .  ." 

Lola  flushed  in  spite  of  the  assurance  she  gave  her- 
self again  and  again  that  she  understood.  With  an 
effort  she  threw  off  the  instinctive  feeling  of  resentment 

against  Richard. 

[155] 


THE    BALANCE 


"I  shouldn't  think  you  would  like  to  see  them  to- 
gether," she  railed  him.  "From  what  Dick  tells  me 
I  suspect  that  between  them  they  are  planning  to  keep 
Mr.  Norton  and  you  in  hot  water  for  some  time  to 
come." 

Treadway  was  frankly  surprised  by  her  attitude, 
but  he  suspected  that  it  was  simply  defensive  reaction. 

"It  probably  pleases  me  just  about  as  much  as  it 
does  you." 

"Oh,  I  don't  mind,"  Lola  said  lightly.  "Olga  is  a 
smart  little  thing,  and  she  is  heart  and  soul  in  this 
plan  Dick  has  worked  out.     Have  you  ever  met  her?" 

"I've  seen  her  in  action  a  couple  of  times,  when  the 
old  man  has  had  her  on  the  mat  for  fighting  with  the 
other  girls.     Gad!     What  a  temper  she  has!" 

"Dick  was  telling  me  about  her  temper,"  Lola 
laughed.  Then  her  tone  became  more  serious.  "But  it 
is  that  very  temper  which  gives  her  individuality.  It 
is  simply  the  wrong  expression  of  a  will  which  makes 
her  somebody.  If  even  now  her  education  could  be 
completed,  and  she  could  live  in  different  environment 
she  would  make  a  wonderful  woman." 

"Perhaps  Dick  will  see  that  she  has  the  opportunity," 
Treadway  remarked  significantly. 

Lola  looked  at  him  steadily. 

"Why  don't  you  suggest  that  to  him?"  she  asked, 
with  a  meaning  he  could  not  ignore. 

"Oh,  don't  take  it  that  way,"  Treadway  hastened 
to  appease  Lola's  growing  indignation.  "I  get  sore 
sometimes  to  see  Dick  playing  so  fast  and  loose  with 
you,  and  perhaps  I  say  more  than  I  should." 

[156] 


THE    BALANCE 


"You  are  saying  more  than  you  should  now." 

"You  know  how  I  feel  about  you,  Lola.  That  must 
be  my  excuse.  I  stood  aside  when  Dick  came  home,  for 
I  knew  what  he  had  been  through,  and  he  was  entitled 
to  anything  he  wanted.     But  if  he  doesn't  want  .  .  ." 

"What  makes  you  think  Dick  doesn't  want  now 
what  he  wanted  before?" 

"The  way  he  neglects  you,  Lola,  and  the  way  he  plays 
around  with  this  factory-girl." 

"Would  it  change  your  opinion  if  I  told  you  that 
except  for  my  unwillingness  Dick  and  I  would  already 
be  married?" 

Treadway's  face  lighted. 

"Then  you  don't  care  for  him?"  he  cried.  "Then 
I  have  a  chance?" 

"I  care  for  Dick  Norton  more  than  for  any  other 
man,"  she  declared  with  spirit.  "If  I  ever  marry  I 
expect  to  marry  Dick.  At  the  present  moment  I  have 
no  desire  to  marry  any  one;  but  Dick  Norton  is  my 
friend  ...  a  very  dear  friend.  I'm  proud  of  what 
he's  doing,  and  I  have  no  criticism  to  make  of  anything 
he  does  .  .  .  Now  you  know  where  I  stand.  Let  me  give 
you  another  cup  of  tea." 

"Well  .  .  ."  Treadway1  stammered.  "That's  right 
from  the  shoulder,  isn't  it?  Dick  is  a  fine  chap  and  all 
that,  of  course;  but  I  don't  understand  .  .  ." 

"There's  a  whole  lot  about  Dick  Norton  that  wiser 
people  than  you  don't  understand,"  Lola  interrupted, 
as  she  viciously  dropped  the  second  lump  of  sugar 
into  his  cup. 

[157] 


CHAPTER     XVI 


AFTER  Treadway  left  her,  Lola  went  over 
to  where  her  father  was  sitting.  Pulling  up 
a  stool  she  seated  herself  at  his  feet,  and  leaned 
against  his  knees. 

"Daddy,"  she  asked,  as  he  laid  down  his  book  and 
stroked  her  hair  affectionately,  "you're  going  to  help 
Dick,  aren't  you?" 

"Yes,  dear ;"  he  replied.  "I'm  convinced  that  the  boy 
is  on  the  right  track.  I've  told  him  so,  and  have  urged 
him  not  to  lose  heart.  I  shall  do  my  best  to  make  the 
exact  situation  clear  to  the  Directors  when  the  Board 
meets  tomorrow." 

"But  you  don't  think  there  is  much  chance  of  their 
giving  Dick's  plan  a  trial?" 

"Absolutely  none.  We  all  have  let  Norton  run  us 
so  long  that  we  haven't  the  moral  strength  to  oppose 
him  now." 

"Even  when  you  know  he's  wrong?" 

Stewart  sensed  the  quiet  criticism  in  her  question, 
and  it  was  as  uncomfortable  as  it  was  unusual. 

"I  have  told  you  that  I  shall  do  my  best  to  present 
the  matter  effectively,"  he  defended  himself;  "but  I 

[158] 


THE    BALANCE 


have  only  one  vote,  and  Norton's  accumulated  influence 
is  far  greater  than  mine.  What  I  have  said  already 
has  caused  a  break  in  my  long  friendship  with  James 
Norton,  but  I  promised  Dick  I  would  support  him, 
and  I  shall  carry  it  through." 

"Good  for  you,  daddy!"  Lola  exclaimed.  "But  it 
will  make  a  lot  of  difference  how  you  present  it.  Are 
you  going  to  be  firm  and  unyielding,  eloquent  and  mag- 
nificent?" 

"Of  course  I  am  going  to  be  firm." 

Stewart's  back  straightened,  and  he  held  his  head 
with  the  air  of  an  emperor. 

Lola  clapped  her  hands.  "You  are  splendid  when  you 
look  like  that !"  she  cried.  "Oh,  I  wish  I  could  hear  you 
when  you  talk  to  the  Directors !  I  was  afraid  that  you 
would  be  courteous  and  agreeable,  as  you  usually  are; 
but  that  would  be  a  mistake  in  dealing  with  a  man 
like  James  Norton,  wouldn't  it,  daddy?" 

"Of  course  ...  of  course,"  he  agreed  with  her. 
"Perhaps  it  would  be  a  good  idea  for  me  to  run  over 
those  papers  of  Dick's  again,  and  sketch  out  what  I'm 
going  to  say." 

"Splendid,  daddy !  I  do  wish  I  might  hear  you  talk 
to  those  Directors  tomorrow!  Even  if  they  haven't 
enough  self-respect  to  vote  for  what  is  right  after  you 
make  it  clear  to  them  that  it  is  right,  your  conscience 
will  be  clear." 

"Yes  .  .  .  yes,  dear.  I  think  I'll  go  to  the  library 
now,"  he  added. 

Lola  quickly  rose  and  assisted  him  to  extricate  him- 
self from  the  recesses  of  the  great  chair. 

[159] 


THE    BALANCE 


"Perhaps  you  would  care  to  look  over  my  notes  since 
you  can't  hear  me  speak  tomorrow?"  he  added. 
"May  I,  daddy?"  she  cried.    "I'd  love  to!" 

II 

Thus  the  unexpected  came  to  pass  at  the  meeting  of 
the  Board  the  following  day.  William  Stewart  as- 
tounded his  fellow-directors  and  James  Norton  by  the 
energy  and  earnestness  with  which  he  argued  for  a 
thorough  investigation  into  the  merits  of  the  case  as 
presented  by  Richard  for  the  workmen.  Because  of 
his  sponsorship,  the  matter  was  discussed  at  length  and 
finally  voted  upon;  but  from  the  first  it  was  at  best  a 
formality,  as  Stewart  had  predicted.  Norton  bullied 
his  Directors  as  he  bullied  his  men,  the  only  difference 
being  in  the  way  he  did  it.  They  had  been  docile  for 
so  many  years  that  Stewart's  action  in  venturing  to 
take  a  viewpoint  opposed  to  that  of  the  General  Man- 
ager could  be  regarded  only  as  a  temporary  lapse  in 
his  loyalty  to  the  Company. 

"You  don't  understand,  Stewart,"  one  of  the  others 
said  to  him.  "Norton  has  already  passed  on  this,  and 
turned  it  down." 

"That  is  why  I  am  fighting  for  it,"  he  retorted  with 
unexpected  zeal.  "I  have  acquiesced  all  these  years  in 
Norton's  policies  because  I  believed  them  to  be  right. 
Now  I  believe  he's  wrong.  No  one  is  infallible.  Our 
responsibility  to  the  Company  is  to  prevent  any  repre- 
sentative of  this  concern  from  making  a  mistake.  I'm 
trying  to  live  up  to  that  responsibility." 

"I  know  ...  I  know,"  was  the  placating  reply,  "but 
[160] 


THE    BALANCE 


Norton  understands  this  situation  better  than  we  do. 
He's  handled  men  all  his  life.  If  we  don't  back  him  up 
he'll  resign,  and  who  could  be  put  in  his  place?  That 
would  be  a  very  serious  problem  .  .  ." 

"It  is  one  we  are  likely  to  have  to  face  at  any  mo- 
ment," Stewart  insisted.  "The  fact  that  we  are  not 
prepared  for  this  emergency  is  evidence  enough  that 
we  are  not  properly  protecting  the  stockholders." 

"But  Norton  wouldn't  stand  for  an  understudy  .  .  ." 

"And  I  won't  stand  for  being  a  puppet,"  Stewart 
retorted  sharply,  again  assuming  imperial  dignity. 
"Except  for  Norton  I  have  more  invested  in  this  busi- 
ness than  any  other  single  stockholder,  and  for  the 
first  time  in  my  life  I  realize  how  easily  my  interests 
may  be  jeopardized  by  the  stubbornness  of  one  man. 
We  are  facing  a  crisis  now,  but  as  soon  as  it  can  be 
done  with  safety  I  propose  to  show  the  stockholders 
the  dangerous  position  we  are  in,  and  take  steps  to 
remedy  the  situation.  I  appreciate  what  Norton  has 
done  for  the  business  during  these  years,  but  no  man 
holds  a  monopoly  on  all  the  knowledge  in  the  world. 
This  Company  has  become  too  large  for  any  one  to 
swing  without  the  constructive  advice  of  other  men 
competent  to  give  it.  That  is  what  we  are  here  for. 
If  Norton  has  reached  a  point  where  he  won't  take 
advice,  it  is  time  to  replace  him  with  a  man  who  will." 

Stewart's  attitude  created  a  profound  sensation, 
but  it  failed  to  influence  the  result.  He  might  force 
a  change  in  the  future,  but  the  Directors  were  dealing 
with  the  present,  and  the  present  was  dominated  by 
Norton.     The  General  Manager  of  the  Norton  Manu- 

[161] 


THE    BALANCE 


facturing  Company  was  formally  authorized  by  his 
Board  of  Directors  to  make  such  reply  to  the  demands 
of  the  men  as  his  judgment  might  dictate,  and  the  meet- 
ing adjourned. 

Norton  lost  no  time  in  sending  to  the  committee  a 
flat  refusal  to  negotiate  further,  and  gave  orders  to 
have  the  strike-breakers  from  outside  ready  to  replace 
with  the  utmost  promptness  the  workers  who  left  their 
jobs. 

He  went  about  his  preparations  with  a  zeal  even 
beyond  his  usual  dynamic,  driving  force.  He  had  a 
triple  purpose  now:  he  would  show  the  men  that  he 
was  still  their  master;  he  must  beat  them  if  he  was  to 
hold  together  his  Board  of  Directors  and  prevent 
Stewart  from  undermining  his  position  with  the  stock- 
holders ;  he  would  demonstrate  to  his  son  that  the  ex- 
perience of  forty  years  in  solving  business  problems 
and  in  meeting  rebellious  workmen  out-balanced  the 
conceit  of  youth  and  the  new-fangled  ideas  of  meddling 
theorists.  If  battle  it  was  to  be,  Norton  was  deter- 
mined to  prove  that  the  old  methods  were  still  the  best ; 
that  capital  still  demanded  subservience  from  labor; 
that  the  Norton  Manufacturing  Company  was  going 
to  be  run  just  as  it  always  had  been  even  if  the  war 
had  turned  everything  else  upside  down. 

Ill 

Richard  believed  himself  prepared  for  the  complete 
failure  of  his  efforts  to  have  the  management  meet  the 
men  half  way,  but  in  reality  he  absolutely  refused  to 
accept  the  inevitable.  It  was  a  case  where  the  desires 

[162] 


THE    BALANCE 

of  the  heart  unconsciously  took  precedence  over  the 
sober  judgment  of  the  mind.  He  knew  his  father's  in- 
fluence with  the  Directors,  but  Mr.  Stewart's  sympathy 
and  co-operation  encouraged  him  to  expect  the  impos- 
sible. For  weeks  he  had  worked  on  his  problem,  arguing 
with  one  man,  urging  another,  pointing  out  the  pros- 
perity which  must  follow  when  the  hated  terms  "capital" 
and  "labor"  were  obliterated  from  the  language  and  re- 
placed by  "employer"  and  "employed";  when  the  object 
of  both  was  production,  and  each  gave  to  the  other  the 
co-operation  he  needed  to  make  this  production  max- 
imum. 

He  had  been  successful  with  the  men.  In  spite  of 
the  opposition  of  those  who  saw  in  the  new  industrial 
relations  the  passing  of  their  power,  there  were  enough 
in  the  labor  ranks  who  were  reasonable  and  loved  peace 
to  make  the  experiment  possible,  and  Richard  was  con- 
fident that  its  success  would  allay  their  suspicions  and 
give  to  it  an  enduring  permanence.  It  was  a  real  tri- 
umph to  have  accomplished  this,  and  Richard  knew  it. 
Yet  he  had  failed.  His  own  father,  fortified  by  prece- 
dent, blinded  by  habit,  cherishing  "what  always  was" 
as  more  precious  than  "what  is  to  be,"  refused  to  see 
in  this  triumph  anything  save  rebellion  and  sedition! 
He  refused  to  read  the  handwriting  on  the  wall,  even 
though  the  letters  seemed  to  Richard  to  be  written  in 
flaming  symbols,  foretelling  with  terrifying  clarity 
the  fate  of  the  world  unless  the  basic  principles  of 
democracy  were  embodied  in  industrial  enterprise  as 
they  were  guaranteed  in  the  constitutions  of  nations. 

"Blind  .  .  .  blind  .  .  .  blind!"  he  shouted,  though 
[163] 


THE    BALANCE 


there  was  no  one  to  hear  him  in  the  small  bedroom 
of  the  flat  which  he  had  occupied  since  he  left  his  fath- 
er's house.  "Why  can't  they  realize  that  indemnities 
won't  give  the  world  peace,  nor  the  readjustment  of 
boundary  lines,  nor  treaties,  nor  armies,  nor  ships. 
Production  .  .  .  nothing  but  production  will  solve  the 
problem,  and  without  understanding  and  co-operation 
in  industry  there  can  be  no  production.  We  who  of- 
fered our  lives  for  the  peace  of  the  world  know,  and  we 
have  a  right  to  be  heard.  We  have  a  right  ...  we 
have  a  right  .  .  ." 

Then  something  gave  way,  and  Richard  sank  in  a 
heap  upon  the  floor.  The  mental  strain  had  worn  down 
his  physical  strength,  never  fully  recovered  since  his 
wound,  until  the  frayed  nerves  yielded.  There  Olga 
found  him  when  she  called  later  in  the  day  to  receive 
instructions.  There  the  doctor,  hastily  summoned  by 
the  terrified  girl,  helped  her  to  get  him  into  bed,  and 
prescribed   absolute  quiet   and  watchful   nursing. 

"Who  is  he?"  Dr.  Thurber  inquired. 

Being  a  new-comer  to  Norcross,  he  failed  to  recog- 
nize the  son  of  the  town's  leading  citizen. 

"He's  my  man!"  Olga  declared  defiantly,  fearful  lest 
this  opportunity  to  serve  him  be  taken  away  from  her. 

"I  mean,  what  is  his  name?" 

"Richards,"  Olga  lied,  rejoiced  that  his  identity  was 
not  disclosed. 

There  she  nursed  him  day  and  night,  jealously  guard- 
ing and  protecting  him  while  the  workers  walked  out 
from  the  plant ;  while  the  strike-breakers  arrived ;  while 
Alec  Sterling,  taking  Richard's  place,  struggled  to  hold 

[164] 


THE    BALANCE 


back  Tony  Lemholtz  and  his  radicals  in  their  lust  for 
violence ;  while  Lola  worried  over  Richard's  absence  and 
silence;  while  the  atmosphere  of  Norcross  became  in- 
tense in  its  anticipation  of  something  unusual  and 
malevolent. 

Olga  permitted  no  foot  save  the  doctor's  to  cross 
the  threshold  of  the  little  room,  and  was  happy  in  the 
praise  he  gave  her  for  her  instinctive  skill  and  devotion. 
Alec  Sterling  alone  knew  her  secret.  The  men  were 
told  that  Richard  was  away  arranging  matters  with 
the  union  chiefs,  and  no  one  else  inquired. 


[165] 


CHAPTER  XVII 


ON  Sundays,  James  Norton,  deacon  in  the  Con- 
gregational Church  in  Norcross,  never  failed 
to  sit  in  his  family  pew  or  to  admit  himself  a 
miserable  sinner.  This  was  a  condition  he  acknowl- 
edged solely  to  his  Maker,  and  then  only  on  Sundays. 
On  other  days  he  considered  himself  quite  competent 
to  look  after  his  own  affairs.  Another  invariable  cus- 
tom was  to  walk  to  and  from  church.  His  father  had 
made  it  a  point  to  obey  the  Biblical  injunction  to  rest 
his  beasts  upon  the  seventh  day,  and  the  early  impres- 
sion made  upon  James  Norton's  mind  extended  now 
even  to  his  automobiles. 

September  in  Norcross  is  the  loveliest  month  in  all 
the  year.  The  air  turns  crisp  and  invigorating,  the 
gardens  give  their  final  flare  of  color  in  the  masses  of 
chrysanthemums,  asters,  dahlias,  salvia,  and  canna, 
and  the  trees  vie  with  the  gardens  in  the  gorgeous  bril- 
liancy of  their  array. 

Norton  found  it  a  relief  on  this  September  Sunday 
to  get  away  from  the  great  empty  house,  away  from 
himself.  Once  inside  the  house  of  God  he  found  a  rest 
which  came  to  him  at  no  other  time.     He  was  sincere 

[166] 


THE    BALANCE 


in  his  belief  that  he  was  a  consciencious,  consistent 
Christian,  and  when  he  felt  the  pain  of  his  son's  defec- 
tion and  of  his  former  friend  Stewart's  disloyalty,  he 
turned  to  his  Maker  with  a  confidence  that  the  words, 
"Well  done,  thou  good  and  faithful  servant,"  were 
spoken  to  him.  He  knew  himself  to  be  stern ;  that  was 
but  the  expression  of  his  duty  to  those  who  required 
discipline.  No  man  could  say  that  he  was  not  just 
and  honest.  He  contributed  to  the  church  and  to  char- 
ities ;  he  had  given  of  himself  in  the  building  of  a  busi- 
ness from  which  thousands  gained  their  sustenance; 
except  for  him  the  town  itself  would  lack  its  present 
individuality.  As  he  sat  in  his  pew  this  Sabbath  morn- 
ing he  reconciled  the  bitterness  of  his  personal  expe- 
riences by  recalling  the  comforting  thought  that  "whom 
the  Lord  loveth  he  chasteneth." 

Norton  could  not  have  repeated  the  text  nor  told 
much  of  the  subject  matter  of  the  discourse.  The  min- 
ister did  not  interest  him,  and  of  what  use  were  these 
theories  of  life  after  death  and  all  that  sort  of  thing 
when  no  one  could  prove  anything  one  way  or  the  other? 
Norton  was  at  church  not  for  what  he  could  give  to  it 
or  what  he  could  receive  from  it,  but  because  of  the 
habit  which  years  had  established.  The  fact  that  he 
went  gave  him  satisfaction,  and  the  experience  was 
soothing  after  six  days  of  strife  and  turmoil. 

II 

The  services  over,  Norton  found  himself  walking 
behind  Henry  Cross.  Perhaps  it  was  the  humanizing 
effect  of  the  last  hour  and  a  half,  or  it  may  have  been 

[  167  ] 


THE    BALANCE 


that  a  bit  of  the  September  beauty  crept  for  a  moment 
into  his  lonely  old  heart.  Instead  of  brushing  past 
him,  as  was  his  custom,  and  expressing  his  disdain  by 
the  straightness  of  his  back,  Norton  surprised  Cross 
by  letting  his  step  fall  in  with  his. 

"Feeling  easier  about  that  money,  aren't  you?"  he 
asked  without  preliminaries. 

"I  don't  usually  discuss  business  matters  on  the 
Sabbath  day,"  Cross  replied,  assuming  a  non-committal 
attitude  in  order  to  recover  from  his  surprise. 

"I'd  hate  to  take  a  chance  on  offering  you  that  bank 
stock  you  want,  even  on  the  Sabbath,  unless  I  was 
willing  to  let  it  go,"  Norton  chuckled. 

"There  might  be  some  exceptions,"  Cross  admitted. 

"Why  did  you  hold  back  that  note  that  fell  due  on 
Friday?"  Norton  inquired.  "There  was  plenty  of 
money  in  the  bank  to  take  care  of  it." 

Henry  Cross  looked  up  quickly.  After  what  Tread- 
way  had  said  to  him,  Norton's  remark  was  a  bit  sur- 
prising. Safely  deposited  among  his  securities  was  a 
renewal  of  this  note,  bearing  James  Norton's  signature. 

"You  know  why  that  note  wasn't  presented." 

"You  are  right,"  Norton  shouted.  "I  do  know,  but 
I  didn't  think  you  knew  I  knew.  I'd  like  nothing  better 
than  to  have  you  present  it.     You  don't  dare !" 

Cross  regarded  his  companion  critically  to  make 
sure  that  he  was  in  earnest. 

"I  thought  you  were  a  business  man,  .  .  or  is  your 
memory  failing?  It  isn't  customary  to  present  a  note 
for  payment  after  accepting  a  renewal." 

"What!"  exclaimed  Norton.     "A  renewal?     You're 

[168] 


THE    BALANCE 


crazy !  No  renewal  has  ever  been  issued  for  that  note, 
and  never  will  be." 

There  could  be  no  question  of  the  sincerity  of  Nor- 
ton's statement,  and  Henry  Cross  found  himself  some- 
what bewildered. 

"Either  you're  surpassing  yourself  in  bluffing,"  he 
said,  "or  there's  something  here  neither  one  of  us  under- 
stands. I  hold  a  renewal  of  that  note  in  my  safe-de- 
posit box  at  the  bank.  I  can't  get  at  it  today,  but  if 
it  would  interest  you  to  see  it  I'll  show  it  to  you  at 
the  bank  meeting  tomorrow  morning." 

"You  do  that,"  Norton  cried;  "and  let  me  know 
where  you  got  it.    Good  day  to  you." 

Norton  stamped  off,  bringing  down  his  heavy  cane 
with  resounding  thumps  on  the  new  granolithic  side- 
walk which  was  the  town's  pride.  Henry  Cross  watched 
him  as  the  distance  between  them  widened,  then  he,  too, 
proceeded  to  his  home  with  much  the  same  feeling  of 
bewilderment  which  Norton  himself  experienced. 

Ill 

On  this  same  Sunday  Richard  Norton  was  discovered, 
and  it  was  Barry  O'Carolan  who  found  him.  The  bills 
had  come  in  for  Jack  Munsey's  funeral,  and  Barry 
needed  the  contribution  which  Richard  had  so  freely 
pledged.  Every  one  accepted  the  report  which  Alec 
Sterling  circulated  that  young  Norton  was  out  of  town, 
and  many  were  the  conjectures  and  comments  occa- 
sioned by  his  continued  absence  at  just  this  crisis. 
Having  no  better  idea  come  to  him,  Barry  hobbled  down 
to  Richard's  boarding-place,  hoping  to  gain  informa- 

[169] 


THE    BALANCE 


tion  which  would  enable  him  to  acquaint  "the  Capt'n" 
with  the  situation. 

Olga  met  him  at  the  door  of  Richard's  chamber  and 
barred  his  entrance.  Her  attitude  and  the  defiant 
expression  on  her  face  were  in  themselves  a  direct  chal- 
lenge. 

"What  are  you  doin'  here?"  Barry  demanded. 

"None  of  your  business,  Barry  O'Carolan,"  she  re- 
plied angrily.  "Why  are  you  snooping  around,  any 
way  ?" 

"I  want  to  find  out  where  the  Capt'n  is.  I've  got 
somethin'  important  to  say  to  him.  And  I'm  guessin' 
he's  not  very  far  from  where  we're  standin'  now." 

"S-ssh!"  she  whispered  anxiously,  seeing  that  con- 
cealment was  no  longer  possible.  "Mr.  Richard  has 
been  awful  sick,  and  I  have  been  nursing  him.  But 
you  will  not  give  him  away,  will  you,  Barry?  He  does 
not  want  the  men  to  know  that  he  is  so  sick  for  fear 
Tony  will  take  advantage  of  it.  You  will  not  give 
him  away,  will  you?" 

Barry  was  bewildered,  but  if  Richard  wished  the 
knowledge  of  his  illness  to  be  suppressed,  that  was 
enough. 

"He's  not  much  sick,  is  he?" 

"He  is  better  now,  but  he  cannot  see  any  one  yet. 
The  doctor  says  he  may  in  a  few  days." 

"Can't  I  tell  even  Miss  Lola?  She's  terrible  worried 
about  him." 

"No  ...  no !  not  her !"  the  girl  exclaimed  impul- 
sively, fearful  lest  this  knowledge  should  result  in  hav- 
ing the  "Stewart  lady"  supplant  her. 

[170] 


THE    BALANCE 


"When  can  I  see  him?"  Barry  demanded,  instinc- 
tively resenting  the  protective  attitude  Olga  assumed. 
He  had  given  his  word  to  Lola  that  things  were  going 
to  come  out  all  right  for  her,  and  the  present  situation 
contained  elements  which  made  him  wonder  if  he  had 
made  a  false  estimate  after  all.  He  had  assured  her 
that  Richard's  work  with  the  men  could  never  take 
the  place  of  what  a  woman  could  be  in  his  life,  but  here 
was  a  woman  .  .  .  another  woman  .  .  . 

Olga's  eyes  anxiously  followed  the  changing  expres- 
sion on  Barry's  face,  and  she  could  not  fail  to  note 
his  disapproval.  The  security  she  had  enjoyed  was 
threatened,  and  she  must  act  promptly  and  daringly. 
She  knew  how  loyal  the  one-legged  man  was  to  Richard. 
If  he  could  be  convinced  that  things  were  as  "the 
Capt'n"  wished  them  to  be  her  secret  might  be  kept 
at  least  a  little  longer. 

"Barry,"  she  said,  after  a  delay  in  answering  the 
question,  "I  think  it  would  be  all  right  for  you  to  see 
Mr.  Richard  today.  The  doctor  lets  Alec  Sterling 
come  in,  and  I  will  take  a  chance." 

"Fine !"  he  cried,  relieved  to  have  the  situation  clear 
so  unexpectedly;  "but  first  let  me  go  and  get  some 
flowers  for  him  ...  It  won't  take  me  more  than  half 
an  hour  .  .  .  You  can't  have  a  person  sick  without 
havin'  flowers,  you  know,  .  .  they  sort  of  go  together 
.  .  .  I'll  be  right  back." 

"You  will  not  tell  anybody  where  he  is?" 

"Not  if  he  says  himself  that  he  don't  want  people 
to  know,"  was  the  guarded  reply  as  Barry  hobbled  down 

the  stairs. 

[171] 


THE    BALANCE 


When  he  returned,  Olga  admitted  him  at  once.  As 
she  had  said,  Richard  was  better  now,  and  the  girl 
had  greater  difficulty  in  enforcing  the  doctor's  injunc- 
tion to  keep  him  quiet.  Alec  Sterling  came  in  to  see 
him  once  each  day,  so  that  the  invalid  was  in  touch 
with  the  strike  as  far  as  it  seemed  wise  for  him  to  know. 

Olga  took  her  place  at  the  head  of  the  bed,  still 
jealously  watchful. 

"Hello,  Barry,"  Richard  greeted  him;  "this  is  a 
nice  trick  I've  played  on  myself,  isn't  it?" 

"But  not  for  long,  Capt'n.  You'll  be  out  again 
in  a  few  days." 

"I  must  be,"  Richard  replied  emphatically. 

"Here  are  some  flowers  for  you  .  .  ." 

Barry  laid  the  gorgeous  bunch  of  chrysanthemums 
on  the  coverlet  where  Richard  could  reach  them. 

"They're  from  Miss  Lola's  garden,"  he  added,  watch- 
ing to  see  what  effect  the  mention  of  the  name  would 
have. 

"So  they  are,  .  .  I  know  just  the  spot  where  you 
picked  them,  Barry.  How  is  Miss  Lola,  and  the  Stew- 
arts, and  everybody?" 

"As  well  as  they  could  be  after  worryin'  'bout  you." 

"Oh,  there's  nothing  to  worry  about,"  Richard  in- 
sisted. "I  did  too  much,  that's  all.  I'm  feeling  fine 
today,  and  I'll  be  on  my  job  soon,  I  promise  you 
.  .  .  I'm  sorry  I  couldn't  go  to  Jack's  funeral.  Tell 
Olga  how  much  my  share  is.     She  is  my  treasurer  now." 

Richard  looked  up  smilingly  into  the  girl's  face, 
and  took  in  his  the  hand  which  rested  lightly  on  his 
shoulder. 

[172] 


THE    BALANCE 


"I  can  never  repay  this  child  for  her  devoted  care," 
he  said  gratefully.    "A  wife  could  have  done  no  more." 

Olga  flushed  at  the  tribute,  but  Barry  could  see  the 
joy  come  into  her  eyes,  even  as  she  deprecated  her 
efforts. 

"Hell!"  she  said  consciously;  "I'd  have  done  as 
much  for  a  sick  dog." 

Richard  was  amused  by  the  girl's  characteristic  re- 
sponse, but  it  troubled  Barry.  Perhaps  rumor  had 
been  right,  and  things  had  gone  farther  than  he  had 
been  willing  to  acknowledge  to  himself. 

"Miss  Lola  would  have  come  if  she'd  known  .  .  ." 

"You  hold  your  tongue,  Barry  O'Carolan !" 

Richard  held  up  a  restraining  hand,  which  Olga  at 
once  respected. 

"Olga  is  right,  Barry,"  he  said.  "It  is  best  that 
for  the  present  no  one  should  know  where  I  am  .  .  . 
Miss  Lola  could  not  have  come  to  this  place,  even  if 
she  had  wanted  to.  It  happened  just  as  it  should,  for 
Olga  was  willing  to  take  care  of  me,  and  I  am  happy 
and  grateful  to  have  had  her.  She  has  been  a  wonder- 
ful help  to  me,  Barry.  You  ought  to  find  a  girl  like 
Olga  and  marry  her." 

"No  girl  would  ever  marry  half  a  man  like  me," 
Barry  stammered  in  his  embarrassment  .  .  ,  "But 
there're  some  men  with  two  legs  who  haven't  got  such 
good  eye-sight  as  I  have,"  with  which  enigmatical  com- 
ment Barry  turned  to  Olga  for  the  funeral  contribu- 
tion and  took  his  departure,  the  stamp  of  his  wooden 
leg  on  the  stairs  registering  his  entire  disapproval  of 

the  situation. 

[173] 


CHAPTER  XVIII 


WHILE  Richard  lay  convalescing,  Norcross 
passed  through  its  own  physical  disarrange- 
ment. The  presence  of  so  many  hundreds  of 
unemployed  workers  congested  the  streets,  and  intro- 
duced an  element  of  discontent  hitherto  unknown  in  the 
orderly,  self-satisfied  town.  There  were  occasional  out- 
breaks, but  the  general  attitude  of  the  strikers  was 
that  of  peaceful  patience,  confident  of  being  able  to 
outwait  the  management  at  the  plant. 

When  the  first  strike-breakers  arrived  they  occa- 
sioned curiosity  rather  than  resentment.  What  could 
these  strangers  accomplish  in  running  machines  which 
year  after  year  had  known  the  touch  of  but  a  single 
hand!  It  was  simply  a  gallery  play  on  the  part  of 
the  management  to  impress  the  men  with  their  inde- 
pendence. Skilled  workmen  are  not  to  be  picked  up 
on  every  corner.  These  Hessians,  who  came  in  for 
blood  money  at  the  behest  of  Capital,  might  go  through 
the  motions,  but  they  could  never  perform  the  work 
of  those  whose  places  they  took! 

The  workmen  saw  little  to  complain  of  until  Tony 
Lemholtz  began  to  point  it  out  to  them.     Then  they 

[174] 


THE    BALANCE 


became  apprehensive.  Tony  was  clever  enough  to  re- 
alize that  the  strike-breakers  offered  him  his  oppor- 
tunity to  recover  his  lost  leadership.  Richard  Norton 
had  won  the  men  away  from  him  by  glowing  pictures  of 
a  future  which  had  failed  to  materialize.  As  a  spell- 
binder Richard  had  temporarily  surpassed  him;  but 
now  his  rival  had  taken  himself  off,  .  .  whither  he  knew 
not  nor  did  he  care.  The  field  was  clear  for  Tony  to 
pull  down  the  structure  Richard  had  reared,  and  to 
salvage  the  material  for  building  to  his  own  design. 

Groups  of  workmen  met  each  incoming  train  and 
sought  to  dissuade  the  newcomers  from  going  to  the 
plant.  Moral  suasion  was  employed  as  the  strike- 
breakers went  to  and  from  their  work.  In  some  in- 
stances these  efforts  were  successful,  but  for  the  most 
part  the  men  had  come  to  Norcross  for  a  definite  pur- 
pose and  went  about  their  business  stolidly.  In  a  few 
instances  the  attempts  at  suasion  passed  the  bounds 
and  resulted  in  personal  encounters,  but  except  for 
these  Alec  Sterling  and  his  conservatives  held  back 
the  fire-brands  in  spite  of  Tony's  tirades. 

"Leave  them  alone,"  Sterling  counseled.  "They're 
ruining  more  than  half  the  stuff  they  turn  out.  We're 
all  right  if  we  keep  our  heads.  The  management  can't 
run  the  plant  without  us,  and  they  know  it.  If  we  use 
violence,  we'll  play  right  into  their  hands.    Leave  them 

alone." 

"Yes,  leave  'em  alone  and  let  'em  think  we're  scared 
of  'em!"  Tony  retorted.  "Leave  'em  alone  and  let 
'em  take  the  bread  out  of  our  mouths !" 

"You  haven't  gone  hungry  yet,  have  you?"  Sterling 
[175] 


THE    BALANCE 


came  back.  "You're  getting  your  pay  regular  from 
the  union,  whatever  happens  to  us.    You  should  worry." 

"Yes,  I'm  gettin'  my  pay,"  Tony  admitted ;  "and  I'm 
earnin'  it.  Not  by  standin'  'round  like  you  and  lettin' 
'em  tear  the  coats  off  our  backs,  but  by  doin'  somethin' 
to  get  through  with  this  loafin',  so  that  all  of  us  can 
get  our  pay.  They  never  would  have  brought  in  these 
scabs  if  they  hadn't  thought  we  was  cowards.  That's 
what  you  get  for  listenin'  to  that  highbrow  Mister 
Richard  Norton!  Where  is  he  now?  Run  away,  to 
some  place  where  it's  healthier,  that's  what  he's  done." 

"He'll  be  back  when  he's  needed,"  Sterling  asserted 
staunchly;  "and  when  he  comes  you'll  have  reason  to 
know  it.    He  won't  be  overlooking  you  this  time." 

II 

Thus  the  battle  of  words  raged.  Sometimes  the  men 
seemed  content  to  abide  by  Sterling's  moderation,  some- 
times the  superintendent  felt  that  his  last  grip  on  them 
had  loosened,  and  that  they  would  follow  Tony  to  tear 
down  the  works.  Twice  he  sought  interviews  with  James 
Norton,  but  he  accomplished  nothing. 

"Come  to  me  when  the  men  have  learned  their  lesson, 
Sterling,"  Norton  told  him.  "I  can  run  this  plant 
without  'em,  and  I  will  run  it.  You  all  are  making  me 
a  lot  of  trouble  which  I  shan't  forget,  and  you  all 
must  pay  the  price  for  it." 

"Then  you  had  better  have  the  State  troops  ready 
to  act  in  an  emergency,"  Sterling  warned  him.  "There 
is  an  element  among  the  strikers  I  don't  like.  We'll 
hold  them  back  as  long  as  we  can,  but  when  the  storm 

[176] 


THE    BALANCE 


breaks  you  and  the  works  will  need  all  the  protection 
you  can  get." 

Norton  laughed  at  him. 

"I  thought  you  knew  men  better  than  that,  Sterling. 
They  haven't  got  it  in  'em.  They're  skunks,  every  one 
of  'em,  and  you  know  how  much  courage  a  skunk  has. 
They'll  make  the  air  foul  with  their  threats,  but  they 
don't  dare  raise  a  hand  against  me.  I've  ruled  'em  by 
fear  all  these  years,  and  they're  afraid  of  me  now. 
There  won't  be  any  storm,  Sterling,  .  .  just  a  little 
breeze  stirred  up  by  their  own  hot  air." 

Sterling  pleaded  in  vain.  The  old  man  sat  tight 
in  his  overweening  confidence,  and  refused  to  see  any- 
thing in  the  superintendent's  warnings  except  an  effort 
to  weaken  the  Company's  stand  in  the  interest  of  the 
men. 

"You  always  take  the  men's  side,  Sterling,"  Norton 
told  him.  "That's  the  only  criticism  I've  ever  had  to 
make  of  you.  If  you  had  stood  up  stiffer  in  the  past 
I  shouldn't  have  to  be  doing  it  now.  The  men  have  got 
almighty  cocky  with  their  big  wages  these  last  few 
years.  They've  forgotten  how  it  feels  to  have  their 
bellies  empty.  I'm  in  no  hurry.  We'll  do  a  good  job 
now  and  have  it  over  with.  If  these  men  ever  come  back 
into  this  plant  it  will  be  on  a  basis  which  will  keep 
things  smooth  for  a  good  long  time.  Tell  'em  that  from 
me,  Sterling." 

Ill 

Norton  found  Henry  Cross  a  diversion  from  his  trou- 
bles with  the  men.    True  to  his  promise,  after  the  bank 

[177] 


THE    BALANCE 


meeting  that  Monday  morning,  Cross  handed  Norton 
the  renewal  note,  and  awaited  his  comments. 

"Where  did  you  get  this?"  Norton  demanded,  after  he 
had  given  it  a  careful  examination. 

"I  don't  know  that  it  makes  much  difference,"  Cross 
parried.  "These  things  frequently  pass  through  sev- 
eral hands  before  they  get  back  home." 

"In  this  particular  instance  it  makes  a  good  deal 
of  difference." 

"That's  your  signature  all  right,  isn't  it?"  Cross 
asked  complacently.      "That's  all  I'm  interested  in." 

Norton  hesitated  a  moment.  The  episode  of  the 
notes  was  not  developing  exactly  as  he  had  expected, 
and  he  was  puzzled.  Henry  Cross  could  not  sit  there 
so  calmly  if  he  had  in  any  way  been  a  party  to  the 
forgery. 

"As  a  matter  of  fact,"  Norton  said  slowly  "neither 
signature  is  genuine." 

Cross  sprang  excitedly  from  his  chair. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  he  cried.  "The  signatures  are 
forged?" 

Norton  nodded.  "And  rather  badly  done  at  that. 
Now  you  realize  the  importance  of  telling  me  where  you 
got  this  note.  The  one  which  fell  due  last  Friday  was 
also  a  forgery." 

Henry  Cross  rarely  became  flustered,  but  this  occa- 
sion was  a  notable  exception.  He  fell  back  into  his 
chair  speechless  for  the  moment,  and  then  made  sev- 
eral efforts  before  the  words  finally  came. 

"This  .  .  .  this  isn't  another  one  of  your  bluffs?" 

he  demanded. 

[178] 


THE    BALANCE 


"It's  serious  business.  Four  of  those  notes  you 
showed  me  at  the  house  the  other  night  were  forgeries." 

Cross's  face  turned  white. 

"Do  you  happen  to  remember  the  amounts?" 

"Yes;  each  note  was  for  $25,000  ...  I  guess  this 
is  the  time  when  we'll  have  to  play  the  game  together 
whether  we  want  to  or  not.  Where  did  you  get  the 
note?" 

"You  wait  right  here." 

Cross  rose  clumsily,  and  leaving  the  President's  office 
made  for  his  safe-deposit  box.  Securing  the  desired 
papers,  he  returned  to  Norton,  and  laid  on  his  desk 
the  renewal  notes  for  the  three  remaining  maturities. 

"How  about  these?"  he  demanded. 

The  pathetic  tone  in  Cross's  voice  would  have  amused 
Norton  except  for  the  significance  of  the  affair  to  him 
and  to  the  Company. 

"Phoney,  every  one  of  'em,"  he  said  crisply,  after 
a  careful  examination;  "and  the  notes  they  extended 
were  just  like  'em.  I'm  afraid  you're  in  for  a  pretty 
loss." 

"We'll  see  about  that!"  Cross  cried,  trembling  in 
his  excitement.  "We'll  see  whether  or  not  a  man  is 
responsible  for  the  acts  of  his  own  secretary  .  .  .  Read 

this !" 

"The  acts  of  his  own  secretary  .  .  ."  Norton  re- 
peated slowly,  holding  the  proffered  paper  in  his  hand 
.  .  .  "Look  here,  Cross,  are  you  crazy  or  am  I?" 

"Read  that,"  Cross  insisted,  pointing  to  the  agree- 
ment drawn  up  by  Treadway  which  he  had  just  handed 

him. 

[179] 


THE    BALANCE 


At  first  the  importance  of  the  document  was  not 
apparent  to  Norton.  Then  its  significance  became 
clear,  and  a  wave  of  anger  passed  over  him,  followed 
by  a  pain  as  real  as  if  a  blow  had  been  dealt.  The  whole 
world  had  turned  against  him!  His  son,  his  friend 
Stewart,  his  trusted  superintendent,  and  now  Tread- 
way,  on  whom  he  had  relied  implicitly,  and  on  whom 
he  had  rested  more  than  ever  since  he  had  forced  Rich- 
ard out  of  his  life!  Forgetful  of  Cross's  presence,  he 
bowed  his  head  on  his  hands  and  groaned. 

"We  must  go  right  up  to  the  plant  and  arrest  him," 
Cross  declared,  mopping  his  face  with  his  handkerchief, 
unmindful  of  everything  except  his  personal  tragedy. 

The  words  brought  Norton  back  to  realities.  He 
held  up  his  hand  restrainingly. 

"There  is  no  haste,  Cross;  he  can't  get  away  .  .  . 
Let  me  think  this  ou^.     I'm  dumfounded." 

"Do  you  acknowledge  your  responsibility?" 

"Don't  be  a  fool !  Of  course  there's  no  responsibility ; 
but  you'd  better  let  me  handle  it.  I'll  pledge  myself 
to  help  you  all  I  can.    I've  got  to  think  it  out." 

"You  won't  let  him  get  away?" 

"No,"  Norton  answered  wearily;  "he  must  pay  the 
price.  Now  leave  me  alone  .  .  .  Treadway  a  criminal ! 
I  trusted  him.  I  cared  for  him.  I  wished  my  son  was 
like  him!     My  God!  .  .  Richard  at  least  is  honest!" 


[180] 


CHAPTER     XIX 


BLACK  MONDAY"  they  still  call  it  in  Norcross. 
Henry  Cross  found  the  day  dismal  enough  when 
James  Norton  disclosed  to  him  the  fact  that 
he  had  paid  out  a  princely  sum  for  alleged  business 
paper  which  was    absolutely   worthless.      Norton   felt 
its  dreariness  when  he  returned  to  the  plant. 

It  was  raining  hard,  as  if  to  average  things  up  for 
the  wonderful  Sunday  which  preceded  it.  The  weather 
appeared  to  reflect  itself  in  the  strikers.  They  had 
been  getting  more  restless  each  week,  and  when  "Black 
Monday"  opened  up  in  sullen  fashion  it  found  them 
sullen  too.  But  the  weather  was  not  wholly  responsible. 
Sunday  had  been  a  day  of  labor  for  Tony  Lemholtz 
and  his  aides.  James  Norton's  parting  words  to  Alec 
Sterling  were  o%erheard  by  one  whom  the  strikers  had 
"planted"  in  the  office,  and  Tony  had  not  overlooked 
their  value  in  working  the  men  up  to  a  fighting  frenzy. 

"He  calls  us  skunks,  fellers,"  Tony  yelled  from  the 
housetops,  .  .  "the  boss  calls  us  skunks !  He  says 
we're  scared  of  him.  He'll  wait  'til  our  bellies  are  empty, 
will  he?  .  .  .  and  then  he'll  take  us  back  on  his  own 
terms.  Now  will  you  listen  to  Alec  Sterling,  or  will 
you  stand  up  and  show  yourselves  men?" 

[181] 


THE    BALANCE 


All  day  Sunday  Tony  watched  the  crowds  of  men 
about  him  grow  larger  and  listen  to  him  with  deeper 
interest.  He  marked  the  angry  flushes  which  came  into 
their  faces  as  he  talked,  and  he  delighted  to  goad  them 
on  the  raw  which  the  experiences  of  the  past  few  weeks 
had  produced. 

On  this  Monday  morning  the  cold,  wet,  penetrating 
east  wind  settled  into  their  wounds,  real  and  fancied. 
Alec  Sterling  now  could  scarcely  find  a  listener.  The 
men  moved  about  in  groups,  and  there  was  an  unusually 
large  number  of  personal  encounters  with  the  strike- 
breakers. As  James  Norton's  limousine  passed  some 
of  the  men  on  its  way  back  from  the  bank  to  the  plant 
there  were  howls  and  cat-calls,  but  to  the  old  man  inside 
these  meant  nothing.  His  mind  was  intent  upon  some- 
thing else.  By  noon  several  of  the  groups  had  joined 
together,  with  Tony  at  their  head,  still  skilfully  excit- 
ing them  until  there  were  shouts  containing  threats, 
and  loud  exhortations  to  "get  the  boss." 

Sterling  felt  it  necessary  to  acquaint  Richard  with 
the  conditions.  In  spite  of  Olga's  protests,  the  sick 
man  struggled  to  his  feet,  relieved  to  find  that  his 
strength  was  sufficient  for  this  achievement. 

"I  have  your  promise  to  keep  me  posted?"  Richard 
demanded  of  Sterling,  and  the  superintendent  gave  his 
word. 

II 

Unmindful  of  the  turmoil  outside,  the  master  of  Nor- 
cross  entered  his  office.  Never  had  it  seemed  so  cheerless, 
never  had  he  seated  himself  at  the  great  desk  with 

[182] 


THE    BALANCE 


such  despair  in  his  heart.  He  knew  that  from  now  on 
he  must  distrust  every  one.  If  those  who  had  been  near- 
est and  dearest  to  him  could  so  chastise  him,  there  was 
nothing  to  hope  for  in  the  future.  Then  a  terrifying 
thought  came  to  him  *  .  .  if  every  one  had  turned 
against  him,  could  it  be  possible  that  he  himself  had 
after  all  been  wrong?  He  sat  there  with  bowed  head, 
striving  to  analyze  himself  and  the  life  he  had  lived 
so  strictly  in  accord  with  what  he  believed  was  right. 

Treadway  entered  the  office  and  was  startled  by  his 
physical  appearance. 

"You're  not  well,"  he  exclaimed.  "Shall  I  call  a 
doctor?" 

Norton  roused  himself,  gave  him  a  long,  searching 
glance,  and  then  shook  his  head. 

"No,  Treadway,"  he  said  in  a  voice  so  hollow  that 
it  added  to  the  secretary's  alarm.  "It  isn't  a  doctor  I 
need;  it's  time  in  which  to  readjust  myself  .  .  .  Sit 
down." 

With  wondering  eyes  never  leaving  his  chief's  face, 
Treadway  seated  himself  and  waited.  That  it  was  an 
epochal  moment  he  could  not  fail  to  sense,  but  its  exact 
purport  did  not  occur  to  him.  Norton's  question  there- 
fore took  him  completely  off  his  guard. 

"Why  did  you  do  it?"  the  old  man  cried,  with  so 
much  feeling  in  his  voice  that  Treadway  was  genuinely 
affected;  but  as  yet  no  understanding  came  to  relieve 
his  suspense. 

"Do  what?"  he  inquired.    "I'm  afraid  I  don't  .  .  ." 

Treadway's  lack  of  comprehension  angered  Norton. 
To  his  mind,  in  which  honor  was  synonymous  with  life, 

[183] 


THE    BALANCE 


it  was  unbelievable  that  any  man  could  be  guilty  of 
crime  without  having  its  consciousness  ever  stalking 
before  him.  The  calm,  unruffled  bearing  stirred  in  Nor- 
ton a  resentment  which  made  him  again  the  pitiless 
judge  rather  than  the  injured  patron. 

"Don't  try  stalling!"  he  said  sharply.  "Your  game 
is  up  .  .  .  And  I  trusted  you,  Treadway !" 

The  secretary  rose  with  that  consummate  dignity  he 
knew  so  well  how  to  assume. 

"Something  has  evidently  occurred  of  which  I  am 
ignorant,  .  .  I  have  apparently  lost  your  confidence, 
sir  .  .  ." 

"You  have  lost  more  than  that,"  Norton  interrupted 
sternly.  "When  a  man  stoops  to  crime  he  loses  every- 
thing." 

"Sir !"  Treadway  exclaimed  indignantly.  "If  you  are 
applying  your  remarks  to  me  „  .  ." 

"Cut  out  the  dramatics!"  Norton  commanded;  "I 
want  facts.  How  many  notes  are  there  outstanding  on 
which  my  name  has  been  forged  by  you?" 

Treadway  stiffened,  and  regarded  his  chief  steadily 
for  several  moments  in  silence,  but  during  this  period 
his  mind  was  unusually  active.  So  Cross  had  given  him 
away !  Treadway  knew  Norton  well  enough  to  realize 
the  hopelessness  of  throwing  himself  on  his  mercy. 
His  only  possible  salvation  lay  in  appealing  to  the 
older  man's  self-interest.  As  Norton  watched  him,  he 
saw  a  complete  metamorphosis  in  his  secretary  .  .  . 
The  sleek,  polished,  deferential  man  of  the  world 
changed  into  a  cunning,  resourceful  antagonist.  There 
were   no    evidences    of    remorse    or    of    apprehension. 

[184] 


THE    BALANCE 


Treadway  at  bay  held  himself  perfectly  in  hand.  He 
calmly  reseated  himself  and  played  with  the  ivory 
paper-cutter. 

"At  last  we  meet  as  man  to  man,"  he  said  defiantly. 
"You  have  discovered  this  too  late,  Norton.  A  year  ago 
you  might  have  made  things  unpleasant  for  me;  today 
I  have  something  on  which  to  trade." 

"I  have  no  interest  in  your  personal  affairs,"  Nor- 
ton exclaimed.  "I  asked  you  a  question  and  I  want  an 
answer  .  .  .  How  many  forged  notes  are  outstand- 
ing?" 

"I  really  don't  know  without  consulting  my  private 
books,"  Treadway  answered  indifferently ;  "but  enough 
to  make  it  absolutely  necessary  for  you  to  trade  with 
me  if  you  wish  to  straighten  matters  out.  I  have  taken 
good  care  of  that." 

"Trade  with  you?"  Norton  repeated.  "What  non- 
sense are  you  talking!  Trade  with  a  criminal  ...  a 
forger !  I've  asked  you  a  question.  If  you  don't  choose 
to  answer,  that's  all  there  is  to  it  ...  I  had  hoped 
there  might  be  some  explanation  which  would  at  least 
mitigate  the  enormity  of  your  duplicity." 

"I  can  take  care  of  everything  if  you  give  me  time," 
Treadway  explained.  "The  money  is  not  lost  ...  In 
fact  I've  done  very  well  with  it.  Give  me  your  promise 
that  you  won't  prosecute,  and  no  one  need  suffer  at  all. 
In  another  six  months  I  shouldn't  have  needed  any 
.  .  .  loans   from   the   Company." 

"Do  you  realize  that  you  are  asking  me  to  compound 
a  felony?" 

Treadway  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
[185] 


THE    BALANCE 


"You've  driven  some  pretty  hard  bargains  yourself, 
Norton." 

"Have  I  ever  broken  the  law?" 

"Perhaps  not,"  Treadway  admitted;  "but  there  are 
those  who  say  you've  bent  it." 

The  assurance  manifested  by  his  secretary  astonished 
Norton.  He  became  more  and  more  incensed  by  his 
insolence,  but  he  was  interested  to  see  how  far  the  man 
would  go. 

"What  is  this  'trade'  you  suggest?" 

"Ah!  that's  better!"  Treadway  exclaimed.  "I  felt 
sure  you  didn't  care  to  have  this  complication  on  top 
of  all  the  others !  The  Company  reached  its  borrowing 
limit  at  the  banks  six  weeks  ago.  The  note-brokers 
who  have  been  handling  the  Company  paper  since 
then  are  only  doing  so  to  protect  their  holdings.  They 
know  that  with  our  cancelations,  shrunken  inventories, 
and  labor  troubles  there  is  at  least  a  chance  that  even 
the  famous  Norton  Manufacturing  Company  may  find 
itself  seriously  embarrassed.  If  they  discover  now  that 
a  part  of  the  paper  they  hold  is  not  genuine,  and  that 
they  must  face  a  substantial  loss,  the  Company's  only 
resource  will  be  cut  off." 

"Very  interesting,  Treadway,"  Norton  commented; 
.  .  "go  on." 

"If,  on  the  other  hand,  matters  are  not  disturbed, 
within  six  months  everything  will  straighten  out.  These 
notes  of  mine,  when  presented,  will  either  be  retired  by 
me,  or  renewed." 

"I  shan't  even  have  to  sign  the  renewals,  shall  I?" 
Norton  inquired  scornfully. 

[186] 


THE    BALANCE 


"Except  for  such  renewals  as  are  necessary,"  Tread- 
way  continued,  unruffled  by  the  stinging  sarcasm,  "I 
shall  of  course  issue  no  new  notes  ...  I  give  you  my 
word  of  honor." 

"Your  word  of  honor!"  the  old  man  repeated  with 
emphasis.  "Very  ingenious,  Treadway  .  .  .  Your  abil- 
ities are  too  great  to  be  wasted  on  so  insignificant  a 
position  as  you  now  hold.  The  State  calls  for  your 
services.  I  will  no  longer  stand  between  you  and  your 
destiny !" 

Norton  reached  for  the  telephone,  called  the  police 
department,  and  asked  that  an  officer  be  sent  at  once 
to  his  office. 

"You  wouldn't  do  that !"  Treadway  cried,  surprised 
by  the  suddenness  of  his  action. 

"I  have  done  it,"  Norton  replied  with  finality. 

Treadway's  face  darkened  as  he  rose  to  his  feet. 
Irresolutely  he  went  to  his  own  desk  and  seated  himself, 
Norton's  eyes  never  leaving  him.  Thus  they  sat  for 
several  moments. 


Ill 

Suddenly  the  tense  silence  was  broken  by  a  commotion 
in  the  outer  office.  There  was  the  sound  of  broken  glass, 
of  furniture  being  thrown  about,  and  the  angry  voices 
of  men. 

"The  boss  .  .  .  the  boss !"  they  shouted ;  "we  want 
the  boss !" 

"See  what  that  is,  Treadway,"  Norton  instructed 
him.     "Tell  them  I  am  not  to  be  disturbed." 

[187] 


THE    BALANCE 


The  secretary  opened  the  door,  and  then  as  suddenly 
shut  and  locked  it. 

"The  strikers!"  he  cried;  "they're  running  amuck!" 

"Open  that  door!"  Norton  commanded. 

"We're  skunks,  are  we?  .  .  We're  afraid  of  the  boss, 
are  we?"  came  the  strident  voices  from  outside. 

"Open  that  door!"  the  old  man  again  ordered,  but 
seeing  Treadway's  alarm  he  strode  from  his  desk  and 
opened  it  himself. 

"Here  is  the  boss,"  he  cried;  "who  wants  him?" 

Norton's  unexpected  appearance  and  his  defiant  atti- 
tude caused  those  who  stood  nearer  the  door  to  fall 
back.  This  encouraged  Treadway  to  leave  his  desk 
and  take  his  customary  position  beside  his  chief,  but 
before  doing  so  he  took  a  revolver  from  the  drawer 
and  slipped  it  into  his  pocket. 

"Well,  .  .  here  I  am.  What  do  you  want?"  Norton 
again  demanded. 

There  was  no  sign  of  fear  in  the  old  man's  bearing 
as  he  faced  the  disorderly  mob.  He  was  still  master 
of  his  men,  and  the  stern  glance  of  his  eye  intimidated 
them  as  it  always  had.  Those  who  stood  in  front  of 
him  were  silent,  but  from  the  rear  came  answers  to  his 
question. 

"We  want  our  rights,  and  we're  goin'  to  get  'em!" 

"We're  skunks,  are  we?" 

"You  want  to  make  our  bellies  empty !" 

Norton  turned  on  them,  his  voice  trembling  with 
anger. 

"Yes ;  you're  skunks !"  he  cried.  "I  said  it,  and  I 
mean  it.     If  you  weren't,  you  wouldn't  be  here  where 


^  [  188  ] 


THE    BALANCE 


you  don't  belong.  You'd  bite  the  hand  that  feeds  you, 
would  you?  Well  .  .  .  for  what  you've  done  today 
you'll  never  have  a  job  in  this  plant  again.  Now  get 
to  that  door  before  I  get  to  you!" 

A  few  of  the  men  fell  back  in  the  face  of  the  violence 
of  his  words  and  attitude,  but  Tony  Lemholtz  pushed 
his  way  through  the  mass  and  stood  menacingly  before 
him. 

"When  we  go  out  that  door,"  he  threatened,  "you'll 
go  with  us,  .  .  and  it's  a  coat  of  tar  and  feathers 
for  you!" 

Before  Norton  could  make  reply,  another  figure 
elbowed  its  way  to  where  Tony  stood,  causing  a  mo- 
mentary diversion. 

"So  you've  come  back  at  last,"  Tony  sneered,  as 
he  recognized  him.  "You're  just  in  time  to  see  your 
highbrow  theories  put  in  practice." 

With  a  single  blow,  into  which  Richard  concentrated 
all  his  remaining  strength,  he  stretched  Tony  in  a  heap 
at  his  feet.     Then  he  turned  to  the  strikers. 

"Do  you  realize  what  you're  doing?"  he  cried.  "Vio- 
lence will  put  back  the  cause  of  labor  twenty  years. 
Give  way,  and  let  me  talk  to  my  father." 

With  Tony's  downfall  the  aggressive  attitude  weak- 
ened. He  had  regained  his  feet,  but  for  the  time  being 
showed  little  further  interest  in  the  proceedings. 

"Father,"  Richard  appealed  to  the  belligerent  old 
man.  "Don't  hold  this  up  against  the  men.  It  is  all 
wrong,  and  they  know  it;  but  they  have  suffered,  and 
this  man  here" — pointing  at  Lemholtz — "has  incited 
them  beyond  their  reason.     Let  it  stand,  I  beg  of  you, 

[189] 


THE    BALANCE 


as  a  terrible  mistake,  but  also  as  an  evidence  of  the 
depth  of  their  conviction  that  they  have  rights  which 
have  not  yet  been  recognized.  Tell  them  that  you  will 
again  take  their  demands  under  consideration.  Set  them 
an  example  of  moderation.    It  is  your  son  who  asks  it." 

"My  son!"  Norton  cried.  "I  have  no  son.  Except 
for  you,  this  disgraceful  affair  would  never  have  oc- 
curred. You  have  brains,  and  you  have  loaned  them 
to  these  numskulls,  you  have  encouraged  them  to  turn 
themselves  from  respectful,  efficient  workmen  into  ruf- 
fians. I  repeat,"  .  .  he  shouted,  .  .  "not  one  of  you 
skunks  .  .  you  carrion  shall  ever  have  a  job  in  this 
plant  again." 

The  mob  surged  forward  angrily  at  his  words,  push- 
ing Richard,  Lemholtz,  and  Sterling  through  the  door 
of  the  private  office.  Sterling  aided  Richard  in  his 
efforts  to  force  the  men  back,  and  Treadway,  embold- 
ened by  the  reinforcements,  joined  them,  leaving  Nor- 
ton standing  by  himself,  leaning  against  his  desk,  .  . 
angry,  and  defiant.  But  the  strikers  were  not  so  easily 
repulsed. 

"Come  on,  boys,"  Lemholtz  cried  exultantly,  keeping 
well  beyond  the  reach  of  Richard's  arm,  .  .  "come  on 
now  and  get  the  boss !  We'll  make  him  eat  his  words. 
These  traitors  can't  hold  us  back !" 

Backwards  and  forwards  the  mob  surged,  Norton 
himself  being  the  only  one  apart  from  the  jostling 
crowd.  Suddenly,  without  warning,  a  shot  rang  out, 
Norton's  body  gave  a  convulsive  quiver,  and  then 
crumpled  into  a  heap  on  the  floor.  Richard  sprang 
forward  instinctively,  but  Treadway  seized  him  by  the 

[190] 


THE    BALANCE 


arm  and  held  him  back.  At  the  same  moment  there  was 
the  sound  of  a  falling  object  upon  the  floor. 

"Stand  back  .  .  .  you  hypocrite!"  Treadway  com- 
manded, pointing  to  the  uniformed  official  who  was 
pushing  the  strikers  one  side.  "Leave  everything  as  it 
is.  The  officer  will  take  charge  .  .  ,  Mr.  Norton  tele- 
phoned for  you  when  he  heard  that  the  strikers  were 
on  their  way,"  he  explained;  "but  you  have  come  too 
late." 

Silence  fell  on  the  mob  as  the  officer  examined  the 
body.     Then  he  rose. 

"He  is  dead,"  he  announced.     "Who  shot  him?" 

Treadway  pointed  to  an  army  revolver  which  lay 
on  the  floor. 

"That  may  help  to  answer  your  question,"  he  re- 
marked. 

"Whose  is  it?"  the  officer  demanded,  picking  up  the 
weapon. 

"Ask  Richard  Norton,"  Treadway  suggested. 

"Is  this  yours?" 

The  officer  showed  the  revolver  to  Richard,  who  ex- 
amined it  carefully.  The  crowd  awaited  his  reply  in 
tense  expectation. 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  as  he  located  a  mark  on  the 
butt ;  "it  is  the  gun  I  used  in  France.     But  .  .  ." 

"Anything  you  say,  Mr.  Norton,  will  be  used  against 
you,"  the  officer  cautioned  him.  "You  are  under  ar- 
rest !" 


[191] 


CHAPTER     XX 


THE  DEATH  of  James  Norton  made  it  necessary 
for  the  town  of  Norcross  to  take  a  new  inven- 
tory of  itself.  When  for  twenty-five  years  one 
man  has  dominated  every  motion  a  community  makes, 
it  is  inevitable  that  his  loss  should  be  distinctly  felt. 
The  shock  of  the  tragedy  shook  the  town  to  its  depths, 
and  actually  changed  its  personality.  Yet  it  was  not 
many  days  before  the  topic  of  conversation  veered  from 
the  dead  to  the  living. 

Richard  Norton  was  confined  in  the  county  jail, 
indicted  by  the  Grand  Jury  and  held  for  the  murder 
of  his  father.  The  town  was  split  into  factions  on  the 
question  of  his  innocence  or  guilt.  Those  who  held 
him  to  be  the  murderer  recounted  the  endless  misun- 
derstandings between  Richard  and  his  father,  and  the 
final  parting  in  anger.  Clerks  in  the  counting-room 
of  the  plant  recalled  the  many  humiliations  he  had  suf- 
fered at  his  father's  hands.  The  strikers  bore  testimony 
to  the  importance  Richard  attached  to  the  new  indus- 
trial relations  he  had  endeavored  to  establish  for  them, 
and  his  overwhelming  chagrin  when  James  Norton 
gave  the  matter  such  scant  courtesy.     Those  who  were 

[192] 


THE    BALANCE 


present  at  the  tragedy  pointed  out  the  provocation 
given  by  the  violence  of  the  old  man's  reply  to  his  son; 
and,  finally  and  conclusively,  there  was  the  army  re- 
volver, which  Richard  acknowledged  to  be  his  own. 

The  silent  testimony  given  by  this  relic  of  the  great 
war  was  the  one  thing  which  Richard's  friends  could 
not  explain  away.  Everything  else  was  circumstantial. 
The  shot  might  have  been  fired  by  Sterling,  Treadway, 
or  Lemholtz,  who  stood  between  James  Norton  and  that 
surging  mob,  as  well  as  by  Richard.  Any  one  of  these 
men  might  have  been  armed,  and  except  for  Treadway, 
the  old  man's  virulent  abuse  might  supply  the  motive. 
It  was  in  Richard's  favor  that  he  had  just  cautioned 
the  men  against  violence.  His  words  were  sufficient  evi- 
dence that  he  knew  how  seriously  such  an  act  would 
injure  the  position  of  the  men,  and  all  agreed  that  the 
interests  of  the  workmen  constituted  the  great,  dominat- 
ing force  in  his  life  at  this  time.  The  improbability  of 
his  guilt  was  easily  established,  .  .  but  there  was  the 
revolver!  To  maintain  the  hypothesis  of  innocence 
established  by  Richard's  friends,  the  presence  of  the 
weapon  must  be  ignored. 

II 

The  body  of  James  Norton  had  scarcely  been  removed 
by  the  coroner  before  Treadway  sought  out  Henry 
Cross.  The  question  of  those  accusing  notes  must  be 
settled  to  prevent  the  knowledge  of  their  existence  from 
being  shared  by  the  public. 

"I  have  called  upon  a  very  painful  errand,"  Tread- 
way announced. 

[193] 


THE    BALANCE 


Henry  Cross  regarded  him  steadily.  His  presence 
solved  a  problem  to  which  Cross  had  devoted  much 
anxious  thought  since  the  news  of  Norton's  death 
reached  him.  Being  in  ignorance  of  what  had  actually 
occurred  before  the  tragedy  took  place,  he  was  still  try- 
ing to  decide  how  he  should  act  to  protect  his  interests. 
Treadway's  call  relieved  him  of  his  uncertainty. 

"Very  painful,  I  should  say,"  he  replied  deliberately ; 
"particularly  to  you!" 

"Yes,"  Treadway  acquiesced;  "yet  it  would  be  more 
unpleasant  if  during  the  few  moments  preceding  Mr. 
Norton's  death  he  had  not  shown  himself  in  his  true 
colors." 

Cross  waited  for  his  caller  to  continue,  but  for  some 
moments  Treadway  seemed  absorbed  in  melancholy 
thoughts.    At  last  Cross's  patience  was  rewarded. 

"Do  you  mind  telling  me  what  Mr.  Norton  said  to 
you  about  those  notes?"  Treadway  asked. 

"He  said  they  were  forgeries." 

Cross's  temper  again  began  to  rise. 

"Did  he  accuse  any  one?" 
Yes,  you  .  .  .  double-crosser ;  he  accused  you !" 

Treadway  rose  quickly  to  his  feet. 

"Please,  Mr.  Cross!"  he  protested  .  .  .  "please  re- 
serve your  judgment  until  you  know  the  facts.  This  is 
more  serious  than  I  supposed.  Did  he  actually  accuse 
me  by  name?" 

"No,"  Cross  admitted  after  a  moment's  thought 
and  striving  to  be  scrupulously  exact:  "I  can't  say 
he  called  you  by  name,  but  he  certainly  meant  you." 

Treadway  seemed  relieved. 
[194] 


THE    BALANCE 


"I  could  not  really  believe  that  he  made  a  definite 
accusation,  for  he  knew  better;  but  I  suspected  from 
what  he  said  to  me  that  he  had  thrown  aspersions  upon 
my  character.  I  realized,  of  course,  that  Mr.  Norton 
was  personally  in  a  desperate  situation,  but  it  never 
occurred  to  me  that  he  would  undertake  to  cast  sus- 
picion on  an  innocent  man  to  divert  attention  from 
himself." 

"Do  you  mean  to  imply  that  in  spite  of  what  James 
Norton  told  me  the  signatures  on  those  notes  are  gen- 
uine ?" 

"It  is  painful  to  make  these  statements  when  they 
affect  the  reputation  of  a  man  now  dead,"  Treadway 
replied  with  apparent  reluctance;  "but  it  is  my  due 
that  you  at  least  should  know  the  truth.  I  see  no 
reason  to  smirch  his  name  outside,  so  I  depend  upon 
your  discretion  ,  .  .  Of  course  James  Norton  signed 
those  notes !  His  pride  was  hurt  that  I  had  raised 
money  for  the  Company  when  he  had  failed,  yet  he 
knew  that  except  for  my  success  the  Company  would 
have  been  sorely  pressed.  It  is  evident  now  that  he 
planned  to  get  rid  of  me,  and  to  have  me  leave  under 
a  cloud.  Just  how  he  expected  to  accomplish  this,  with 
my  own  reputation  unblemished,  is  not  clear,  but  the 
intent  is  obvious.     Fate,  however,  intervened." 

Henry  Cross  had  experienced  many  sensations  since 
he  first  presented  the  notes  to  Norton.  At  the  present 
moment  his  apprehension  of  financial  loss  appeared  to 
be  relieved,  and  he  breathed  easier. 

"Every  cent  due  on  those  notes  will  be  paid  at  ma- 
turity," Treadway  declared  with  increasing  confidence. 

r.i95i 


THE    BALANCE 


"If  it  will  make  you  feel  more  comfortable,  I  will  en- 
dorse them  personally." 

"I  can't  understand  it,"  Cross  mused.  "I  never 
liked  Norton,  but  I  did  believe  him  honest." 

"Power  turned  his  head,  Mr.  Cross.  He  had  come 
to  believe  that  whatever  he  did  was  right  because  he 
did  it.  We  meet  people  like  that  sometimes,  don't  we? 
Then,  when  his  affairs  became  involved,  he  found  it 
necessary  to  do  certain  things  to  extricate  himself 
which  under  ordinary  conditions  he  would  never  have 
thought  of  doing.  Life  itself  is  a  paradox,  Mr.  Cross. 
I  imagine  that  with  any  of  us,  if  his  acts  were  analyzed, 
some  things  would  come  to  light  which  he  would  prefer 
to  have  remain  in  the  background." 

Without  committing  himself,  Cross  acquiesced. 
While  Treadway  was  explaining  the  situation  his  mind 
had  been  active.  Was  it  possible  that  Norton  had 
lied  about  his  signature?  It  seemed  incredible,  yet 
other  men,  looked  upon  as  upright  pillars  of  society, 
had  proved  themselves  unworthy  when  faced  by  per- 
sonal disaster.  Treadway  was  in  a  position  to  know 
the  facts,  and  he  guaranteed  the  payment  of  the  notes. 
Whatever  else  might  be  confused,  the  fact  that  the 
money  was  safe  appeared  clear. 

"It's  the  greatest  shock  I've  ever  had  in  all  my  life," 
Cross  admitted.  "James  Norton,  .  .  deacon  in  the 
church,  president  of  the  bank,  looked  upon  as  our  lead- 
ing citizen  .  .  ." 

"You  haven't  known  him  as  I  have,"  Treadway  inter- 
rupted, .  .  "but  of  the  dead,  let  us  remember  only 
the  good." 

[196] 


THE    BALANCE 


"That's  the  Christian  way  to  look  at  it,  I  suppose, 
but  I'm  shocked  ...  I  can't  help  it." 

Ill 

Now,  two  weeks  after  the  tragedy,  Treadway  was 
breathing  easily  again.  He  looked  back  upon  his 
experience  with  James  Norton  that  tragic  day  with 
mortification  and  chagrin.  To  have  handled  his  affairs 
in  such  a  manner  as  to  make  detection  possible  evi- 
denced the  fact  that  as  yet  he  had  not  acquired  the 
finesse  he  demanded  of  himself.  He  had  actually  been 
face  to  face  with  arrest  and  prosecution  as  a  common 
criminal !  If  Norton  had  mentioned  over  the  telephone 
why  the  officer  had  been  summoned,  if  Norton  had  con- 
fided his  knowledge  of  the  forgeries  to  any  except  one 
whose  interest  it  was  to  regard  the  signature  as  genu- 
ine, if  Norton's  accusing  voice  had  not  been  stilled! 
Treadway  felt  the  sensations  of  one  who,  stumbling  on 
the  brink  of  a  precipice,  experiences  the  sinking  exhaus- 
tion of  imminent  destruction,  and  suddenly  finds  him- 
self firmly  on  solid  ground  again.  The  horrid  dream 
was  over!  He  found  relief  from  the  shock  in  the 
added  responsibilities  which  came  to  him  at  the  office, 
and  he  plunged  into  the  work  with  an  energy  which 
attracted  universal  approval. 

IV 

The  Stewart  family  were  stunned  by  the  news  of 
the  tragedy,  but  Richard's  innocence  was  implicitly  ac- 
cepted. Knowing  him  as  they  did,  such  an  act  on  his 
part  was  unthinkable.     Yet  when  they  attempted  to 

[197] 


THE    BALANCE 


go  beyond  this  simple  declaration  of  faith,  they  en- 
countered the  same  stultifying  mystery  as  did  Richard's 
other  friends.  To  Lola,  the  blow,  while  staggering, 
came  as  a  steadying  influence.  There  were  no  hysterics. 
Her  comrade  was  in  danger,  and  she  rallied  to  his  de- 
fence. Again  William  Stewart  was  commandeered  as 
aide,  but  to  Lola's  surprise  and  delight,  she  discovered 
that  he  had  already  acted  upon  his  own  initiative. 

"Dick  can  do  nothing  for  himself,"  she  said.  "There 
is  no  one  to  lift  a  finger  for  him  but  ourselves." 

"I  have  already  engaged  counsel,"  Stewart  told  her. 
"We  will  fight  for  him  as  if  he  were  our  own  son.  The 
truth  is  bound  to  be  discovered.  If  we  could  only  dis- 
miss that  accusing  revolver !" 

"You  don't  believe  he  did  it?"  she  demanded. 

"No,  dear;  my  faith  is  as  strong  as  yours.  There 
must  be  some  explanation,  and  that  is  what  we  shall 
seek  .  .  .  Norton  dead!     I  can't  realize  it  even  now!" 

Treadway  called  to  express  his  sympathy,  and  Lola's 
attitude  demonstrated  beyond  a  doubt  her  unwavering 
devotion  to  Richard  which  Treadway  tried  to  convince 
himself  had  lessened.  Under  these  circumstances  he 
showed  a  tenderness  and  consideration  for  which  Lola 
had  not  given  him  credit ;  yet  his  frank  assumption  of 
Richard's  guilt  proved  disconcerting,  and  added  to  the 
girl's  apprehensions. 

"We  must  not  blame  Dick  too  harshly,"  Treadway 
said  soothingly.  "No  one  knows  better  than  I  the  daily 
provocation  he  suffered,  and  that  was  bound  to  wear 
down  even  a  strong  nature  like  his." 

"That  is  assuming  that  he  did  it,"  Lola  protested. 
[198] 


THE    BALANCE 


Treadway  shrugged  his  shoulders  sympathetically, 
but  did  not  retract  his  statement. 

"He  was  weakened  by  his  illness,"  he  replied,  avoid- 
ing a  direct  answer;  "he  saw  the  work  he  had  done 
being  destroyed  by  his  father's  obstinacy ;  he  was  be- 
side himself  with  disappointment.  I  am  sure  that  a 
plea  of  temporary  insanity  will  save  him." 

Stewart,  seeing  the  expression  on  Lola's  face,  joined 
them. 

"Just  where  do  you  stand,  Treadway?"  he  inquired. 

"Why  ...  of  course  I'm  friendly  to  Richard,"  he 
explained;  "but  I  am  held  as  a  witness,  and  I  have  to 
tell  what  I  saw." 

"Did  you  actually  see  Richard  fire  the  shot?"  Stew- 
art asked  abruptly. 

"No,"  Treadway  answered  after  great  deliberation; 
"I  can't  say  flatly  that  I  did.  There  were  several  of 
us  standing  close  together  .  .  ." 

"Sterling  and  Lemholtz  were  on  the  other  side  of 
Richard,  were  they  not?"  Stewart  inquired. 

"Yes ;  and  I  was  on  his  right.  The  mob  was  pushing 
us  from  behind,  after  Mr.  Norton  made  the  statement 
which  so  infuriated  them,  and  we  all  were  trying  to  hold 
them  back.  Then  the  shot  was  fired,  and  the  revolver 
fell  on  the  floor  .   .  ." 

"Go  on,"  Stewart  urged  as  Treadway  paused,  eager 
to  have  the  scene  reconstructed  by  an  eye-witness.  "In 
the  surging  of  the  men  around  you  it  is  impossible  to 
state  definitely  that  any  particular  person  fired  the 
shot,  but  you  believe  it  to  have  been  Richard?" 

Treadway  nodded.  "The  weapon  was  very  close  to 
[199] 


THE    BALANCE 


me  when  it  was  discharged,  and  ...  it  was  Dick's 
gun." 

"We  come  up  against  that  accursed  revolver  every 
time!"  Stewart  admitted.  "Is  there  any  chance  that 
Lemholtz  might  have  secured  it  in  some  way?" 

"I  suppose  anything  is  possible,"  Treadway  answered 
without  committing  himself. 

"Lemholtz  is  the  kind  of  man  who  would  like  nothing 
better  than  to  throw  suspicion  on  Richard  by  way  of 
revenge,"  the  older  man  added. 

"I  wish  we  could  shift  the  responsibility  onto  him," 
Treadway  answered,  shaking  his  head  doubtfully ;  "but 
I  fear  we  can't.     The  evidence  is  too  direct." 

Lola  sat  in  silence  during  the  conversation  between 
Treadway  and  her  father,  losing  not  a  word,  her  eyes 
shifting  from  one  to  the  other  as  each  spoke.  Her  face 
was  pale  and  set,  and  her  determination  strengthened  as 
she  listened  to  the  incriminating  evidence  Treadway  was 
to  give  at  Richard's  trial.  This  determination  found 
voice  as  her  father  completed  his  cross-examination. 

"Richard  Norton  did  not  kill  his  father!" 

The  girl  spoke  with  such  finality  that  both  men 
turned  sharply,  Treadway  with  some  apprehension, 
and  waited  for  her  to  continue.  A  statement  so  definite 
required  explanation.  She  sensed  the  significance  of 
their  questioning  looks. 

"No,"  she  replied  to  the  unspoken  query ;  "you  would 
probably  call  it  woman's  intuition,  but  it  is  far  more 
than  that.  There  are  some  things  I  know  and  some 
things  I  know  I  know.  You  wouldn't  understand.  It  is 
something  that  came  to  us  over  there  in  France.     Liv- 

[200] 


THE    BALANCE 


ing  as  we  did  in  the  constant  presence  of  death,  I  sup- 
pose the  real  things  of  life  became  clearer  to  us.  After 
I  have  seen  Richard  I  shall  know  better  what  to  do,  for 
that  power  of  understanding  came  to  him  just  as  it  did 
to  me;  .  .  but  it  was  not  Dick  who  fired  that  shot." 


Lola's  confidence  was  a  bulwark  of  strength  to  her 
father.  There  had  been  a  few  instances,  like  the  present, 
when  he  had  seen  in  her  face  a  conviction  which  comes 
only  to  those  who  experience  the  fervor  of  a  religious 
rite.  At  such  times  his  daughter  seemed  separated  from 
those  around  her  by  something  beyond  what  he  could 
explain  but  which  he  was  compelled  to  respect.  This 
new  phase  of  Lola's  life  was  brought  to  Stewart's  mind 
when,  several  Sundays  before,  the  minister  had  an- 
nounced his  text,  "Now  we  see  through  a  glass,  darkly, 
but  then  face  to  face."  Was  it  possible  that  as  com- 
pensation to  those  who  ministered  to  the  travelers  dur- 
ing their  journey  through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of 
death,  the  glass  was  made  at  least  partially  transpar- 
ent? There  had  been  times  when  Lola's  judgment  had 
been  so  uncanny  that  Stewart  believed  the  gift  had  been 
bestowed  on  her,  and  when  she  spoke  of  her  faith  in 
Richard  with  that  all-including  confidence,  her  father 
would  have  accepted  her  judgment  against  all  the  evi- 
dence in  the  world. 

Treadway,  however,  saw  nothing  unusual  in  Lola's 
explanation.  Women  are  always  emotional,  and  this 
was  but  another  example  of  their  unreasoning  cham- 
pionship of  the  unfortunate.     But  he  was  too  expe- 

T  201 J 


THE    BALANCE 


rienced  a  diplomat  to  differ  from  her  at  this  moment. 
For  the  time  being  Richard  would  naturally  receive  her 
undivided  thought  and  sympathy,  .  .  but  county  jails 
are  not  the  most  fortunate  trysting-places,  nor  do  con- 
victed felons  long  retain  the  affection  of  girls  brought 
up  as  Lola  Stewart.  Treadway  was  content  to  bide 
his  time. 


[202] 


CHAPTER     XXI 


ON  the  day  of  the  tragedy,  Olga  had  followed 
Richard  to  the  plant  with  serious  misgivings. 
She  was  present  when  Sterling  brought  the 
news  that  Tony  had  gained  the  upper  hand,  and  that 
the  strikers  were  on  their  way  to  the  office  to  demand 
a  reckoning  with  James  Norton.  She  had  seen  the 
angry  color  come  in  Richard's  cheeks  as  he  appre- 
hensively left  the  flat,  brushing  her  aside  as  she  tried 
to  argue  against  his  going.  She  was  with  the  mob 
at  the  rear  of  the  office  when  James  Norton  denounced 
his  son.  She  heard  the  fatal  shot,  and  when  the  officer 
forced  his  way  through  the  crowd,  she  slipped  into  his 
wake  and  gained  a  position  near  the  front.  She  was 
just  behind  Richard  when  the  revolver  was  shown  him 
for  identification,  she  heard  his  acknowledgment,  and 
witnessed  his  arrest. 

Then  a  glance  at  Richard's  face  took  Olga's  mind 
from  the  tragedy,  for  she  knew  what  that  look  meant. 
Quickly  separating  herself  from  the  crowd,  she  hastened 
to  Dr.  Thurber's  office  and  implored  him  to  go  with 
her  to  the  county  jail,  where  they  arrived  only  a  few 
moments  after  the  prisoner  and  his  guard. 

[203] 


THE    BALANCE 


Richard's  collapse  in  his  cell  made  his  removal  to  the 
imfirmary  imperative.  Dr.  Thurber  was  permitted  to 
act  in  consultation,  and  Olga  was  admitted  under  his 
protecting  patronage.  When  the  patient  was  made  as 
comfortable  as  possible,  the  doctor  turned  to  her. 

"You  gave  me  to  understand  that  this  man  was  your 
husband.  Now  I  understand  that  he  is  Richard  Nor- 
ton." 

"What  difference  does  his  name  make  so  long  as  he 
needs  you?"  she  pleaded,  fearful  lest  the  doctor  give 
up  the  case. 

"I'll  look  after  him  all  right,"  he  reassured  her; 
"but  where  do  you  come  in?" 

"Never  mind  about  me,"  she  cried  pitifully  .  .  . 
"Will  he  live?" 

"I  don't  know  that  it  makes  much  difference,"  Dr. 
Thurber  replied  with  unintentional  cruelty.  "From 
what  they  tell  me  we'll  be  simply  saving  him  for  the 
chair." 

Olga  stifled  a  scream,  and  her  eyes  filled  with  horror. 
Her  mind  had  been  so  painfully  occupied  by  Richard's 
collapse  that  the  significance  of  his  arrest  for  the  mo- 
ment entirely  escaped  her. 

"He  did  it,  didn't  he?"  the  doctor  demanded  abruptly. 

"Of  course,"  Olga  answered  proudly.  "What  else 
could  he  do  when  his  father  called  us  carrion?  But 
they  won't  send  him  to  the  chair  for  sticking  up  for  us. 
He  fought  for  us  in  France." 

Dr.  Thurber  shrugged  his  shoulders.  Nothing  could 
be  gained  by  combating  the  girl's  mistaken  faith.  There 
was  no  question  in  Olga's  mind  that  Richard  had  fired 

[204] 


THE    BALANCE 


the  fatal  shot.  It  was  what  she  would  have  done,  and 
she  considered  the  act  as  consummate  self-abnegation 
and  further  evidence  of  his  devotion  to  the  cause.  Tony 
Lemholtz  might  talk  and  rave,  but  it  took  a  man  to 
act  as  Richard  had! 

"Well,"  Dr.  Thurber  said  finally,  "there's  enough 
to  think  about  now  without  going  into  the  family  rela- 
tions ;  but  if  you're  not  his  wife  this  is  no  place  for  you." 

"I  may  come  back  and  see  him?"  Olga  begged,  ter- 
ror-stricken at  the  thought  that  she  would  be  separ- 
ated from  her  charge. 

"It  depends  on  whether  he  wants  you  after  he's  strong 
enough  to  see  any  one.  That  won't  be  for  a  week  or 
two  at  best." 

"Who  will  nurse  him  as  I  have  all  this  time  ?" 

"The  officials  will  look  after  that." 

Olga  regarded  him  with  reproach,  but  there  was  no 
yielding  in  the  doctor's  face.  His  thoughts  were  cen- 
tered on  more  than  the  case  before  him.  The  engage- 
ment existing  between  Richard  Norton  and  Lola  Stew- 
art was  well  known  throughout  the  town,  and  Dr. 
Thurber  was  trying  to  reconstruct  the  situation  as  it 
was  affected  by  "Mr.  and  Mrs.  Richards."  As  this 
was  a  case  which  could  not  be  relieved  by  pills,  powders, 
or  prescriptions,  the  doctor  found  it  somewhat  baf- 
fling. 

II 

It  was  another  fortnight  before  the  patient's  brain 
cleared.     Dr.  Thurber  was  sitting  beside  his  cot,  feel- 

[205] 


THE    BALANCE 


ing  his  pulse,  gratified  by  the  steady  improvement.  As 
he  turned,  he  saw  that  Richard's  eyes  were  open,  and  in 
them  was  an  expression  of  intelligence  which  announced 
to  the  doctor's  trained  sense  that  normal  conditions 
had  returned. 

"Hello,  doctor,"  Richard  greeted  him  cheerfully. 
"I'm  glad  to  see  you  .  .  .  I've  just  had  a  horrible 
dream." 

Before  an  answer  could  be  made  the  patient's  glance 
took  in  the  surroundings.  Richard  raised  himself  on 
his  elbow  and  the  smile  of  greeting  upon  his  face  changed 
into   ghastly   realization. 

"Then  it  wasn't  a  dream,  doctor?"  he  demanded 
slowly. 

As  Dr.  Thurber  shook  his  head  Richard  sank  back, 
but  only  for  a  moment. 

"My  father  is  really  dead?"  he  asked  .  .  .  "Poor 
old  dad!"  he  added  as  the  doctor  nodded. 

After  a  few  moments'  silence  he  continued. 

"I  can't  seem  to  think  of  my  father  as  being  dead, 
doctor.  It  doesn't  seem  possible  that  such  a  personality 
as  his  could  ever  cease  to  exist.  He  never  understood 
me,  and  I  don't  suppose  I  understood  him,  but  he  was 
a  wonderful  man." 

Dr.  Thurber  studied  his  patient  carefully.  This  was 
no  incoherent  rambling.  It  was  evident  that  the  mind 
had  entirely  cleared;  yet  the  words  were  surprising  in 
view  of  the  circumstances.  The  doctor  carefully  jotted 
them  down  for  future  reference. 

"Don't  think  too  much,"  he  cautioned  Richard. 
"You  have  been  very   ill,    and  you'll   need    all   your 

[206] 


THE    BALANCE 


strength.  You  will  be  able  to  see  some  of  your  friends 
now  within  a  day  or  two." 

But  a  flood  of  thought  once  started  is  not  thus 
easily  checked  by  a  word  of  caution.  Richard's  eyes 
again  fell  on  the  grey  stone  walls,  and  his  mind  leaped 
to  reconstruct  the  present  situation. 

"I  was  accused  of  shooting  my  father !"  he  cried  sud- 
denly. "I  was  arrested  and  I  am  now  in  jail.  Tell  me, 
doctor,  is  all  that  true?" 

"Yes,  it  is  true,"  Dr.  Thurber  admitted;  "but  let 
us  talk  about  that  tomorrow.  Your  strength  won't 
stand  it  all  at  once." 

"It  is  too  awful  .  .  ."  horror  filled  Richard's  voice 
.  .  .  "it  is  too  awful  even  to  think  .  .  .  that  I  would 
do  anything  to  harm  my  father !" 

"He  was  shot  with  your  revolver,"  the  doctor  said 
significantly,  feeling  it  to  be  his  duty  to  get  the  reac- 
tion of  this  moment. 

"I  haven't  had  that  gun  in  my  possession  since  I 
left  home,"  Richard  declared  with  such  emphasis  that 
Dr.  Thurber  started.  He  had  dreaded  this  moment  of 
awakening,  for  he  felt  certain  that  the  prisoner  would 
involuntarily  make  some  damaging  statement  which 
would  add  to  his  own  moral  responsibility. 

"If  that  is  true,  you  have  nothing  to  worry  about," 
he  replied  reassuringly.  "Now  try  to  forget,  and  a  lit- 
tle later  Mr.  Stewart  will  want  you  to  tell  him  every- 
thing." 

"Miss  Stewart  doesn't  believe  it,  does  she?" 

"No ;  the  Stewarts  have  absolute  faith  in  you." 

"Thank  God  for  that!  Now  I  can  forget  it;  but, 
[207] 


THE    BALANCE 


doctor,  please  have  Miss  Stewart  and  her  father  come 
to  see  me  as  soon  as  you  can." 

"If  you  rest  well  tonight,  that  may  be  tomorrow." 

Ill 

So  the  morrow  brought  added  strength  to  the  patient 
and  encouragement  in  the  person  of  Lola.  She  asked 
her  father  to  postpone  his  visit,  so  that  this  first  meet- 
ing might  be  sacred  to  themselves. 

"Keep  the  conversation  off  the  situation  itself  as 
much  as  you  can,"  Dr.  Thurber  cautioned  Lola.  "He 
does  not  realize  his  unfortunate  position  as  yet,  and  it 
is  just  as  well." 

It  seemed  to  each  of  them  as  if  ages  had  passed  since 
last  they  met.  Lola  was  shocked  to  see  the  physical 
change  in  Richard.  He  was  pale  and  thin,  and  his 
attenuated  features  gave  him  the  appearance  of  an 
ascetic.  In  his  bearing  the  change  was  even  greater. 
When  they  were  last  together,  a  buoyant  enthusiasm 
replaced  the  former  restlessness  and  uncertainty.  Now 
this  had  disappeared,  and  in  its  place  had  come  a  calm- 
ness indicating  the  new  poise  which  the  experiences  of 
the  past  few  weeks  had  given  him.  Here  in  confine- 
ment, charged  with  the  gravest  crime  civilized  society 
recognizes,  a  peace  seemed  to  have  fallen  on  Richard 
which  Lola  had  never  seen  before. 

"I'm  glad  you  came  alone,"  he  said  simply  after 
greeting  her.  "The  doctor  told  me  that  your  faith 
in  me  was  unshaken,  so  we  don't  need  to  talk  about 
this  terrible  affair  yet  .  .  .  Of  course  I  shall  be  freed. 
I  didn't  do  it,  so  they  can't  convict  me  .  .  .  Poor  old 

[208] 


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dad!  But  before  I  do  anything  for  myself  I  must  tell 
you  how  troubled  I  have  been  these  weeks  while  I  have 
been  so  ill,  not  to  be  able  to  exchange  ideas  with  you. 
It  was  this  illness  that  gave  me  the  first  chance  I  have 
had  to  think  since  I  lay  on  my  back  at  Toul,  .  .  but 
what  a  change  in  the  picture !" 

Lola  was  surprised  and  relieved  to  find  Richard  so 
confident  of  his  acquittal.  Dr.  Thurber  saw  in  this 
merely  a  lack  of  realization ;  she  knew  now  that  it  was 
born  of  faith  based  on  innocence,  and  any  lingering 
doubt  inspired  by  Treadway's  testimony  faded  away. 
Still  she  was  puzzled  by  his  attitude  toward  her.  He 
was  frankly  overjoyed  to  see  her,  yet  there  was  an 
impersonality  about  their  meeting  which  evidenced  a 
changed  relation. 

"I  knew  nothing  of  your  illness,  Dick,"  she  explained 
solicitously.     "You  know  I  would  have  gone  to  you." 

"I  know  you  would,  but  that  was  impossible.  Olga 
did  for  me  more  than  any  one  else  could  have  done. 
That  lodging  house  would  have  been  no  place  for 
you  .  .  ." 

"At  least  we  might  have  taken  you  to  our 
house  .  .  ." 

"Let's  forget  about  ourselves  .  .  .  We  have  greater 
things  to  talk  about." 

"Yes,  dear,"  she  humored  him.  "After  all,  we  are 
only  atoms,  you  and  I,  in  this  great  scheme  of  life 
which  has  been  unfolded  before  us." 

Richard  looked  at  her  admiringly. 

"You  are  a  wonderful  girl,  Lola,"  he  exclaimed.  "It 
was  you  who  pulled  me  back  to  my  best  self  ...  it 

[209] 


THE    BALANCE 


was  you  who  kept  me  from  losing  all  I  had  gained. 
I  really  believed  that  our  marriage  was  the  only  thing 
that  could  reconcile  me  to  conditions  as  I  found  them ; 
you  stood  firm  for  the  greater  purpose  which  lay  before 
us.  Now  I  see  it  clearly  .  .  .  How  unimportant  is 
any  personal  gratification  compared  with  this  oppor- 
tunity to  serve !" 

"It  was  your  vision,  Dick,  which  gave  me  my  per- 
spective. If  I  have  helped  .  .  .  even  a  little  ...  to 
bring  that  to  a  realization,  what  a  satisfaction  it  will 
be  to  us  in  later  years.  .  .  how  much  it  will  help  to 
make  our  lives  together  worth  while !" 

"Yes,"  he  acknowledged;  .  .  "but,  as  you  said,  the 
life  together  is  of  minor  importance,  and  the  work  as  I 
see  it  ahead  of  me  now  seems  almost  greater  than  can 
be  accomplished  in  a  lifetime  .  .  .  Perhaps  we  shall 
never  marry,  Lola,  for  we  must  permit  no  personal 
selfishness  to  interfere  with  our  labors  for  the  common 
cause.  But  we  can  work  it  out  together,  and  that 
means  even  more,  doesn't  it,  dear?  I  know  you  feel 
as  I  do.  You  realized  that  before  I  did,  and  you  were 
right." 

Lola  was  deeply  affected  by  Richard's  earnestness. 
It  was  a  shock  even  to  suggest  that  perhaps  they  might 
never  marry.  The  woman  in  her  asked  unanswerable 
questions  raised  by  his  mention  of  Olga,  .  .  but  deeper 
than  all  was  the  unalterable  conviction  that  she  was  in 
the  presence  of  that  Great  Thing  which  she  had  previ- 
ously felt,  now  for  the  first  time  made  tangible.  Over 
there,  a  life  or  a  thousand  lives  meant  nothing  if  an 
objective  was  to  be  gained.     Of  what  importance  now 

[210] 


THE    BALANCE 


was  her  life  or  Richard's  if  real  service  demanded  it! 
Is  not  service  the  yardstick  by  which  human  character 
is  measured,  and  the  crucible  in  which  human  character 
is  tested?  Is  not  the  apotheosis  of  service  that  which 
requires  personal  sacrifice? 

"We  must  get  you  away  from  here  first,  Dick,"  she 
said  quietly.     "Then  we  will  work  it  out  together." 

"Of  course." 

"How  much  do  you  want  to  tell  me  now?"  she  asked. 

"I  don't  like  to  think  of  myself  even  to  that  extent 
...  I  want  to  tell  you  everything,  but  it  must  develop 
by  degrees.  To  any  one  else  it  would  sound  brutal, 
but  I'm  wondering  if  the  death  of  my  poor  old  dad  isn't 
a  part  of  the  working  out,  .  .  if  it  isn't  the  only  way 
he  could  contribute  to  the  great  common  cause.  Do  I 
shock  you,  Lola?  Why  not  believe  that  today,  with  the 
broader  vision  which  has  come  to  him,  he  is  really 
beside  me,  helping  his  son  to  play  his  part  at  this  crisis, 
and  rejoicing  that  he  unwittingly  has  played  his?  As 
I  think  of  him  now,  Lola,  I  forget  all  that  made  trouble 
between  us.  I  am  conscious  only  of  his  strength  and 
his  integrity  of  purpose.  Think  what  we  could  have 
done  together  if  he  had  seen  the  light  before  he  passed 
beyond!  I'll  believe  that  he  will  still  give  me  of  his 
power  to  help  me  accomplish  my  great  desire." 

IV 

Dr.  Thurber  entered  the  ward  and  interrupted  their 
conversation. 

"I  was  afraid  you  would  overstay  your  time,  young 
lady,"  he  said;  "yet  from  the  expression  on  my  pa- 

[211] 


THE    BALANCE 


tient's  face  I  can  see  that  no  harm  has  been  done." 
"No  harm  can  ever  come  from  Miss  Stewart's  visits, 
doctor,"  Richard  declared ;  .  .  "she  and  I  have  a  work 
to  do  together  which  nothing  must  interrupt." 

"Not  even  the  due  exercise  of  the  functions  of  the  law, 
I  suppose,"  Dr.  Thurber  remarked  dryly,  with  an  ex- 
pression which  Lola  understood  to  be  confirmation  of 
his  belief  that  Richard  failed  to  comprehend  the  gravity 
of  the  situation.  "There  are  some  formalities  which 
remain  to  be  gone  through,  and  Mr.  Stewart  and  your 
attorney  will  probably  ask  Miss  Stewart  to  share  you 
with  them  for  a  time.  Keep  on  gaining  your  strength, 
and  you  will  be  able  to  increase  your  visiting-list.  With- 
in a  few  days  you  will  be  returned  to  your  cell,  but 
after  that  I  recommend  that  everything  possible  be 
done  to  bring  about  a  change  of  scene." 


[212] 


CHAPTER     XXII 


IF  THE  Norton  Manufacturing  Company  had  been 
deprived  of  its  guiding  genius  prior  to  the  meet- 
ing of  its  Board  of  Directors  at  which  William 
Stewart  ventured  to  take  issue  with  Norton,  he  would 
have  been  the  last  member  of  the  Board,  in  spite  of 
his  large  holding  of  stock,  to  be  considered  in  the  re- 
organization now  necessitated.  As  it  was,  the  other 
Directors  turned  to  Stewart  as,  next  to  Norton,  the 
outstanding  figure  in  the  Company.  During  all  these 
years  of  close  association  they  had  never  really  known 
him,  and  it  had  required  that  single  hour  of  self-asser- 
tion to  disclose  the  real  Stewart,  and  to  correct  the  pre- 
vious impression  that  his  dreaming  expressed  rather 
than  concealed  his  personality.  And  William  Stewart 
found  the  new  experience  of  leading  instead  of  follow- 
ing a  sensation  as  agreeable  as  it  was  novel. 

The  tragedy  forced  a  truce  in  the  hostilities  between 
the  Company  and  the  men.  The  strikers  were  dazed 
by  the  sudden  removal  of  the  dominating  figure  which 
had  ruled  them  for  so  many  years.  The  bitterness 
many  of  them  had  felt  became  tempered  by  the  grim 
fact  that  this  man  whom  they  had  regarded  as  their 

[213] 


THE    BALANCE 


personal  enemy  had  paid  the  supreme  price  for  his 
dogged  determination  to  have  his  own  way.  More  than 
that  no  man  could  do.  Tony  Lemholtz  and  his  radicals 
were  now  deprived  of  a  target  for  their  vituperative 
slings.  The  new  management  might  later  provide  one, 
but  at  present  there  was  nothing  to  do  except  await 
developments.  Without  the  inciting  influence  of  radical 
leadership,  labor  is  always  reasonable,  so  there  re- 
mained no  obstacle  to  the  proposal  for  arbitration 
which  was  promptly  issued  by  the  management. 

Under  these  circumstances  conditions  gradually  ap- 
proached normal  in  the  works.  The  strike-breakers 
were  dismissed,  the  men  returned  to  their  machines,  and 
the  great  industry  of  the  town,  as  far  as  outward  ap- 
pearances went,  proceeded  at  slackened  speed  but  in 
due  fashion  as  if  no  untoward  event  had  threatened 
to  destroy  even  its  massive  foundations.  The  smoke 
curling  listlessly  from  the  tall  chimneys  at  first  seemed 
ironical  in  its  tranquility,  but  Norcross  soon  accepted 
it  as  a  symbol  that  man  is  but  a  fleeting  incident  in  the 
life  of  a  community. 

Inside  the  works  affairs  were  not  as  tranquil  as  the 
curling  smoke  might  seem  to  indicate.  James  Norton 
had  kept  within  himself  so  much  of  the  routine  of  the 
business  that  to  unravel  it  without  his  aid  was  a  vexa- 
tious undertaking.  Treadway  proved  to  be  of  the 
greatest  assistance,  for  he  had  stood  nearest  to  the 
master,  and  possessed  at  least  a  superficial  knowledge 
of  the  workings  of  the  great  man's  mind.  On  him, 
therefore,  fell  the  chief  burden  of  the  executive  manage- 
ment, and  he  met  his  new  responsibilities  with  an  energy 

[214] 


THE    BALANCE 


and  ability  which  delighted  the  Directors.  Alec  Sterling 
was  fully  competent  to  handle  the  manufacturing  end 
of  the  business,  so  gradually  affairs  straightened  out 
at  least  to  the  extent  of  conducting  the  Company  with- 
out jeopardy  until  the  proper  successor  to  James  Nor- 
ton could  be  found. 


n 

Stewart,  as  chairman  of  the  Board,  was  in  no  haste 
to  discover  this  successor.  Richard  Norton,  as  his 
father's  heir,  was  now  the  chief  stockholder  in  the 
Company,  and  his  wishes  in  the  matter  must  be  con- 
sulted. If  Richard  was  acquitted,  as  Stewart  believed 
he  must  be,  there  was  much  to  say  in  favor  of  consid- 
ering him  as  the  logical  incumbent  of  James  Norton's 
position.  This  might  mean  a  tempering  of  his  advanced 
ideas  or  a  revision  of  the  attitude  always  taken  by  the 
Directors  in  their  relations  toward  the  employees,  or 
a  compromise  between  the  two;  but  whatever  might  be 
the  final  outcome,  Stewart  was  determined  that  Rich- 
ard's interests  in  the  Company  should  be  carefully  safe- 
guarded. 

In  talking  the  matter  over  with  Treadway,  Stewart 
encountered  his  first  obstacle  .  .  .  should  Richard  re- 
turn, the  former  secretary  made  it  quite  clear  that  he 
would  retire  from  the  Company.  Stewart  realized  that 
because  of  Treadway's  value  to  the  business  this  threat- 
ened action  would  carry  much  weight  against  hi3  plan 
when  presented  to  the  Directors. 

"Why  do  you  take  this  attitude,  Treadway?"  he  in- 
[215] 


THE    BALANCE 


quired.    "Had  there  been  any  trouble  between  you  and 
Richard?" 

"Not  the  slightest,"  was  the  emphatic  response. 
"Personally  I  should  be  glad  to  see  Dick  take  what 
seems  to  be  his  logical  position  in  the  Company,  and  I 
should  be  willing  to  work  with  him  if  I  could.  But  the 
fact  remains  that  we  differ  so  radically  in  our  ideas  of 
conducting  a  business  that  our  relations  would  be  intol- 
erable. I  see  nothing  but  failure  ahead  if  his  ideas 
were  permitted  to  dominate,  and  of  course  I  couldn't 
afford  to  injure  my  personal  reputation  by  becoming 
part  of  a  failure,  even  though  I  was  in  no  way  respon- 
sible for  it." 

"I  am  sorry  to  have  you  oppose  me  in  this,"  Stew- 
art said  frankly;  "my  heart  is  set  on  it." 

"Aren't  we  crossing  our  bridge  before  we  come  to  it  ?" 
Treadway  asked.  "There  is  no  question  whatever  that 
Richard  shot  his  father.  The  only  possible  escape  for 
him  is  through  a  plea  of  insanity,  and  if  that  prevails 
he  will  of  course  prefer  to  live  anywhere  rather  than  in 
Norcross.  Whichever  way  the  trial  results,  it  seems 
to  me  that  the  facts  themselves  preclude  the  remotest 
possibility  of  his  returning  here." 

"You  may  be  right,"  Stewart  admitted  reluctantly, 
"but  I  fervently  hope  that  you  are  not.  Nothing  but 
his  own  admission  will  ever  convince  me  that  Richard 
Norton  is  the  guilty  man." 

"I  fear  your  faith  is  based  too  much  on  Lola's  confi- 
dence, Mr.  Stewart ;  but  the  unfortunate  facts  remain." 

"There  are  no  facts  as  yet  .  .  .  beyond  the  murder 
itself.    The  evidence  is  purely  circumstantial  .  .  ." 

[216] 


THE    BALANCE 


"You  forget  the  gun  .  .  ." 

"But  no  one  actually  saw  Richard  use  it  ...  I  un- 
derstand that  from  a  strategic  position  any  one  of  four 
of  you  might  have  used  it." 

"I  saw  him  fire  the  shot,  Mr.  Stewart !" 

The  older  man  started  violently. 

"You  told  me,  in  Lola's  presence,  that  you  did  not 
see  the  shot  fired." 

Treadway  regarded  him  steadily  for  a  moment. 

"I  also  made  the  same  statement  in  my  testimony 
before  the  Grand  Jury,"  he  said  calmly. 

"You  perjured  yourself  .  .  ." 

"You  would  have  done  the  same  under  similar  circum- 
stances. Richard  Norton  has  been  my  friend.  His 
father  was  my  benefactor.  The  situation  is  desperate 
enough  for  Dick  at  best.  Until  now,  I  have  kept  my 
own  counsel,  for  with  the  truth  once  shared  by  any  one, 
the  danger  to  Richard  is  increased.  But  I  know  that 
it  is  safe  with  you.  I  have  told  you  in  order  to  save 
you  unnecessary  embarrassment  later,  and  to  impress 
you  with  the  importance  of  entering  a  plea  of  tempor- 
ary insanity." 

Stewart  was  staggered,  and  he  glanced  nervously 
around  as  if  seeking  some  avenue  of  escape  from  the 
damning  testimony  he  had  just  heard. 

"I  may  have  to  make  this  statement  at  the  trial," 
Treadway  continued ;  "but  I  hope  not.  I  am  not  afraid 
of  suffering  from  perjury  charges.  Every  one  knows  of 
my  peculiar  relation  to  the  Norton  family,  and  will 
appreciate  the  fact  that  I  tried  to  protect  my  friend. 
If  Richard's  guilt  is  admitted,  and  his  temporary  irre- 

[217] 


THE    BALANCE 


sponsibility  established,  it  will  be  the  best  solution  for 
all   concerned." 

"Of  course  Richard's  counsel  must  know  this.  You 
are  not  binding  me  to  secrecy  to  that  extent?" 

"No,"  Treadway  replied,  seeming  to  hesitate  for  a 
moment;  .  .  "he  should  have  all  the  facts  in  his  pos- 
session, of  course.  I  should  think  that  what  I  have  just 
told  you  would  influence  his  attitude.  I  will  even  talk 
the  matter  over  with  him  if  you  think  it  wise." 

"I  cannot  believe  what  you  tell  me,  Treadway.  It 
isn't  that  I  question  your  words,  but  rather  your  eye- 
sight. I  start  with  the  hypothesis  that  Richard  is 
innocent,  so  you  may  very  properly  say  that  I  am  pre- 
judiced .  .  .  Have  you  ever  listened  to  the  contradic- 
tory statements  made  by  equally  conscientious  witnesses 
of  an  automobile  accident?" 

Treadway  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"I'm  not  trying  to  convict  Richard,"  he  explained. 
"I  wish  the  burden  of  testimony  might  be  removed  from, 
me  to  some  one  less  intimately  associated  with  the  f  amj 
ily.  But  I  was  present  at  the  time,  I  saw  what  I  did  see, 
I  am  held  as  a  material  witness,  and  I  must  answer  the 
questions  that  are  put  to  me." 

"Of  course  ...  of  course  .  .  ."  Stewart  agreed. 
"I  understand  all  that  .  .  .  and  I'm  not  sure  that  I 
wholly  approve  of  your  perjuring  yourself  before  the 
Grand  Jury,  still  your  loyalty  to  the  Norton  family 
does  you  credit.  I  have  not  recovered  yet  from  the 
shock  you  gave  me,  but  the  lawyer  will  know  what  is 
best  to  do.  If  Richard  actually  shot  his  father,  he  de- 
serves .  .  .  but  no,  Treadway,  I  will  not  believe  it? 

[218] 


THE    BALANCE 


In  all  that  confusion  you  were  deceived,  and  the  fact 
that  it  was  Richard's  gun  confirmed  you  in  your  false 
impression  .  .  .  But  we'll  drop  the  matter  of  the  boy's 
relation  to  the  business  until  the  truth  is  established." 


[219] 


CHAPTER     XXIII 


WHEN  TREADWAY  assumed  charge  of  James 
Norton's  private  office  he  discovered  several 
papers  the  existence  of  which  had  previously 
been  unknown  to  him.  The  one  which  proved  to  be  of 
greatest  interest  to  him  personally  was  a  codicil  to  his 
chief's  will  which  canceled  the  original  bequest  of  all 
his  property  to  his  son,  leaving  him  only  the  house 
on  the  Hill  and  a  legacy  of  ten  thousand  dollars.  Tread- 
way  had  always  hoped  that  this  might  be  the  outcome  of 
Norton's  quarrel  with  Richard,  but  as  no  such  sugges- 
tion had  ever  been  made,  it  was  a  happy  surprise  to  find 
himself  named  as  a  beneficiary  to  the  extent  of  the  old 
man's  holdings  in  the  Company  and  in  the  bank. 

The  realization  which  came  to  Treadway  of  the  power 
and  position  this  wealth  would  give  him  was  almost 
overwhelming;  but  why  had  the  codicil  never  been  de- 
livered to  the  executors?  Norton  had  evidently  caused 
it  to  be  drawn  immediately  after  Richard  left  home, 
but  for  some  reason  had  postponed  placing  it  with  his 
will.  Had  this  been  due  to  a  lingering  affection  for  the 
boy,  a  hope  of  reconciliation  in  spite  of  their  differences ; 
had  Norton  been  too  occupied  with  other  matters,  or  was 

[220] 


THE    BALANCE 


it  simply  an  oversight?  These  questions  could  never  be 
answered  now,  but  Treadway  preferred  to  assume  that 
the  newly-discovered  document  represented  Norton's 
unalterable  intention,  and  that  it  was  his  secretary's 
personal  duty  to  prevent  the  accident  of  his  death  from 
causing  a  miscarriage  of  his  obvious  desires. 

When,  therefore,  James  Norton's  will  was  duly  pro- 
bated, the  codicil,  properly  signed  and  witnessed,  was 
included.  No  one  questioned  the  old  man's  change  of 
heart.  In  view  of  all  that  had  happened,  the  codicil 
was  more  obvious  than  the  original  document.  Rich- 
ard's friends  were  sympathetic  but  not  surprised,  the 
Directors  of  the  Company  were  relieved,  since  Richard 
was  not  to  be  the  heir,  to  have  the  stock  fall  into  the 
hands  of  some  one  familiar  with  its  affairs ;  the  public 
spoke  of  Treadway's  "luck" ;  and  James  Norton's  erst- 
while secretary  settled  down  as  the  logical  successor 
of  the  Great  Man  of  Norcross. 

II 

Henry  Cross  watched  the  new  turn  of  affairs  with  con- 
siderable interest.  His  experiences  with  Treadway  had 
not  predisposed  him  in  his  favor.  Cross  had  hated 
Norton  with  the  accumulated  venom  of  over  twenty 
years,  but  beneath  that  hatred  was  the  inevitable  respect 
which  one  strong  man  feels  for  another,  whatever  the 
differences  in  their  religious,  political,  or  business 
creeds.  He  had  believed  Norton  when  he  told  him  that 
his  signature  was  forged.  The  shock  which  came  to  him 
when  Treadway  flatly  proclaimed  his  late  chief  a  liar 
and  a  crook  later  gave  way  to  incredulity.    As  a  matter 

[221] 


THE    BALANCE 


of  fact,  Norton  and  Treadway  had  been  very  much  in 
Cross's  mind  ever  since  the  tragedy. 

Treadway  now  represented  the  Norton  interests  at 
the  meetings  of  the  bank.  Here  Cross  came  into  fre- 
quent contact  with  him,  and  found  him  modest  and  un- 
assuming in  wearing  his  new  dignities. 

"I  little  thought  when  I  agreed  to  get  you  that 
stock,"  Treadway  confided  to  him  one  day,  "that  it 
would  be  so  prejudicial  to  my  personal  interests;  but 
a  promise  is  a  promise,  and  you  shall  be  the  next  presi- 
dent of  the  Norcross  National  Bank." 

All  this  was  gratifying  to  Henry  Cross's  ambitions, 
but  with  their  realization  close  at  hand,  he  found  his 
satisfaction  less  than  he  had  anticipated.  It  was  one 
thing  to  assume  the  position  he  had  long  coveted  with- 
out contest,  and  another  to  have  forced  James  Norton, 
at  the  height  of  his  arrogance,  out  of  his  chair  at  the 
head  of  that  long  mahogany  table.  The  memory  of  the 
last  meeting  with  his  rival  still  proved  disconcerting. 
He  had  seen  the  strong  man  weaken,  he  had  seen  the 
chilled  steel  pierced,  and  had  been  given  a  glimpse  of 
human  clay  beneath,  which  he  had  not  believed  was 
there.  If  James  Norton  had  lied  to  him  during  that 
conference,  then  Cross  had  been  in  the  presence  of  the 
most  consummate  actor  of  his  time;  and  if  he  had  not 
lied  „  .  . 

Herein  lay  the  disconcerting  element.  Was  his  in- 
stinctive distrust  of  William  Treadway  justified,  and  in 
which  direction  did  his  duty  lie  ?  Duty  was  still  spelled 
with  capital  letters  in  Henry  Cross's  New  England  con- 
science, and  he  earnestly  prayed  that  he  had  not  yielded 

[222] 


THE    BALANCE 


to  temptation  in  accepting  Treadway's  words  at  their 
par  value. 

Treadway  himself  was  actively  engaged  in  strength- 
ening the  fortifications  in  his  new  position.  If  he  could 
have  foreseen  that  his  dream  of  wealth  and  power  was 
to  be  gratified  without  his  personal  effort,  there  would 
have  been  no  occasion  for  him  to  take  chances  by  mark- 
ing the  cards.  Now  it  was  important  for  his  future 
welfare  that  these  silent  witnesses  be  removed  from  the 
pack.  The  forged  notes  held  by  those  other  than  Henry 
Cross  could  easily  be  retired  on  presentation  without 
attracting  attention,  but  the  Cross  notes  still  repre- 
sented a  danger  point.  Treadway  believed  that  the  old 
man's  suspicions  had  been  allayed,  but  it  was  the  act  of 
wisdom  to  make  assurance  doubly  sure. 

"In  view  of  what  has  happened,"  he  said  quietly  to 
Cross  after  one  of  the  meetings  at  the  bank,  "I  should 
be  glad  to  take  up  those  notes  you  hold  without  wait- 
ing for  their  maturity." 

This  remark  caused  that  troublesome  New  England 
conscience  of  Henry  Cross  further  twinges.  If  the 
notes  were  all  right,  why  should  Treadway  suggest 
retiring  them?  They  represented  an  obligation  of  the 
Company,  and  Treadway's  only  personal  responsibility 
was  his  endorsement,  which  should  cause  him  no  con- 
cern. Treadway's  manner  intimated  that  his  sugges- 
tion was  made  as  a  favor  to  Cross,  but  the  old  man 
was  not  wholly  convinced  as  to  the  younger  man's  altru- 
istic interest.  Henry  Cross  invoked  Divine  guidance, 
in  answer  to  which  the  still  small  voice  became  a  shrill 
calliope,  clamoring  for  attention.     The  responsibility 

[223] 


THE    BALANCE 


became  too  great  for  him  to  bear  alone.  He  removed 
the  disturbing  documents  from  his  safe-deposit  box, 
placed  them  in  his  inside  pocket,  and  made  a  special  trip 
to  the  metropolis  to  lay  them  before  a  hand-writing 
expert. 

Ill 

It  happened  to  be  Olga  who  brought  to  Richard  the 
news  of  his  disinheritance.  Among  whom,  in  a  manu- 
facturing town,  does  news  or  rumors  of  news  travel 
more  rapidly  than  the  working  class?  At  last  the  girl 
succeeded  in  passing  Dr.  Thurber's  guard,  for  Richard 
had  asked  for  her,  and  the  doctor  could  offer  no  good 
reason  for  denying  his  request.  Olga  rejoiced  in  the 
tidings  she  had  to  bring.  If  there  had  not  been  justi- 
fication before,  this  unfatherly  act  supplied  it.  To  her 
it  was  conclusive  evidence  that  James  Norton  had  no 
right  to  live. 

"You  mustn't  talk  like  that,"  Richard  restrained  her, 
as  she  poured  out  the  story  after  her  first  passionate 
tears  of  greeting.  "He  was  my  father,  Olga,  and  what- 
ever our  differences,  I  shall  always  respect  his  memory. 
It  was  his  money,  and  he  knew  that  I  shouldn't  use  it  as 
he  would  have  wished  it  to  be  used.  He  had  a  perfect 
right  to  leave  it  to  whomever  he  chose." 

Olga  looked  at  Richard  in  astonishment. 

"If  you  feel  that  way  toward  your  father,  why  did 
you  shoot  him?"  she  demanded. 

"You  don't  think  I  shot  him,  Olga?" 

"Of  course.  Why  shouldn't  you?  He  called  us  car- 
rion, and  he  gave  your  money  away." 

[224] 


THE    BALANCE 


"Hush."  Richard  understood  this  fiery  spirit,  and 
realized  what  lay  beneath  her  primitive  attitude.  "I'm 
sorry  you  could  think  that  of  me,  Olga,  but  you  don't 
realize  what  you  are  saying." 

The  girl  was  undeniably  disappointed,  and  she 
showed  it. 

"Then  who  did  do  it?"  she  asked  incredulously. 

"That  we  must  find  out  .  .  .  Olga,  do  you  suppose 
Tony  Lemholtz  could  have  got  hold  of  my  revolver?" 

"If  it  was  where  he  could  reach  it,  he  could.  But  if 
you  think  he  shot  the  boss,  forget  it.  He  would  not 
take  the  chance." 

"He  might  have,  in  the  excitement,"  Richard  in- 
sisted.   "I  saw  his  face  when  he  got  up  from  the  floor." 

"He  might  have  killed  you  .  .  .  from  behind,"  the 
girl  said  contemptuously;  "but  never  the  boss  in  the 
open.    He  is  too  yellow." 

"We  mustn't  take  anything  for  granted,  Olga.  He 
was  the  only  one  there  insane  enough  to  commit  such 
a  deed  .  .  .  But  I  can't  understand  where  my  gun 
came  from.  You  might  be  able  to  find  that  out  for  me, 
Olga.     Will  you  try?" 

"Sure  I  will  try,"  she  said  promptly;  "but  if  you 
did  not  do  it,  why  have  they  got  you  here?" 

"They  think  I  did  it." 

"Your  word  is  as  good  as  theirs  .  .  .  and  better. 
Where  is  the  cop?    I  will  tell  him  so." 

"Quiet  .  .  *  quiet !"  Richard  calmed  her.  "You  can 
help  me  more  by  doing  what  I  ask." 

"Has  the  Stewart  lady  been  to  see  you?"  she  inquired 
abruptly. 

[225] 


THE    BALANCE 


As  he  nodded,  the  girl's  eyes  snapped  jealously. 

"Are  you  going  to  let  her  come  between  us  ?" 

Richard  looked  at  her  in  surprise.  It  was  the  first 
time  Olga  had  ever  suggested  a  claim  upon  him,  and 
his  immediate  reaction  was  one  of  annoyance.  Then 
the  absurdity  of  her  words  became  uppermost,  and  he 
smiled  into  her  face. 

"No,  you  silly  child,  .  .  the  Stewart  lady  is  not 
going  to  take  your  little  playmate  away  from  you  .  .  . 
Why  are  you  so  serious  today?" 

Olga's  eyes  were  snapping,  and  her  whole  bearing 
showed  the  resentment  she  felt  that  he  took  her  words 
so  lightly. 

"Because  I  am  serious,"  she  answered  him.  "I  am 
not  a  child,  and  you  shall  never  call  me  that  again.  I 
am  a  woman,  just  as  the  Stewart  lady  is,  and  you  have 
no  right  to  treat  me  like  this." 

Richard  had  seen  her  in  temper  before,  and  he  sensed 
nothing  in  this  outburst  beyond  others  which  had  pre- 
ceded it.  Sometimes  he  purposely  teased  her,  to  see 
the  color  come  to  her  cheeks  and  the  fire  to  her  eyes. 

"Come  here,  you  little  spit-fire,"  he  said,  placing  his 
arm  around  her  and  drawing  her  slight  form  to  him. 
"What  do  you  mean  by  getting  angry  with  me  when  I 
am  having  so  much  trouble  any  way?" 

"It  is  your  own  fault  for  not  answering  my  question. 
I  do  not  like  to  have  you  make  sport  of  me  ...  I  think 
too  much  of  you  for  that." 

"I  only  make  sport  of  you  when  you  invite  it,"  he 
said  more  seriously.  "There  has  been  no  change  in  our 
friendship  since  that  afternoon  at  East  Lake,  except 

[226] 


THE    BALANCE 


that  it  is  stronger.    What  has  Miss  Lola  to  do  with  it?" 

"Everything,"  the  girl  answered  solemnly.  "It  is 
true  we  sipped  the  wine  as  friends  long  ago,  but  much 
has  happened  since." 

"True,  but  nothing  to  affect  our  friendship." 

"Then  you  lived  in  a  different  world  from  mine,  now 
you  live  in  my  world;  then  you  were  a  rich  man's  son, 
now  you  are  poor  like  me;  then  you  were  Mr.  Richard 
Norton,  now  you  are  my  Richard ;  then  we  were  friends 
only,  now  .  .  ." 

"Nonsense !"  he  interrupted  her.  "There  is  no 
stronger  word  than  friend.  Miss  Lola  is  also  my  friend, 
yet  she  would  never  ask  if  you  were  going  to  come  be- 
tween her  and  me." 

"Her  friendship  is  different  .  .  .  she  expects  you  to 
marry  her." 

"She  expects  that  no  longer,  Olga,"  Richard  ex- 
plained. "I  never  expect  to  marry  now.  I  have  told 
her  so,  and  she  understands." 

"She  understands  that  you  no  longer  love  her?  .  .  . 
Your  engagement  is  broken !"  Olga's  voice  expressed  ab- 
solute incredulity. 

"I  didn't  say  that.  I  do  love  Miss  Lola  .  .  .  You 
have  always  known  that  .  .  .  but  now  I  am  face  to 
face  with  something  more  important  than  marriage  or 
love.  When  I  get  out  of  here,  I  mean  to  devote  my  life 
to  putting  across  what  you  have  heard  me  talk  of  for 
the  men.  It  means  sacrifice  to  me,  but  I  must  not  think 
of  wife,  or  home,  or  children  until  I  have  fulfilled  the 
duty  I  have  laid  upon  myself." 

It  was  difficult  for  Olga  to  comprehend  Richard's 
[227] 


THE    BALANCE 


statement,  but  out  of  the  confusion  in  her  mind  there 
came  an  impression  that  perhaps  the  situation  was 
better  for  her  than  she  had  thought. 

"You  say  that  you  still  love  the  Stewart  lady  even 
though  you  will  not  marry  her,"  she  said  slowly,  as  if 
trying  to  put  his  words  into  her  own  language  .  .  . 
"Does  that  mean  that  you  do  not  love  me?" 

"Of  course !"  he  admitted  promptly.  "We  are  friends 
...  we  have  sipped  the  wine  together  ...  we  are  liv- 
ing in  each  other's  lives  .  .  .  what  could  be  happier 
or  sweeter?" 

The  girl  clasped  her  hands  about  his  neck,  and  looked 
up  into  his  face.  The  great  brown  eyes  were  wet  with 
unshed  tears,  the  lips  quivered,  and  the  voice  was  low. 

"Oh,  Richard !"  she  cried  impulsively ;  "don't  you  see 
how  different  everything  is  now  from  what  it  used  to  be  ? 
Until  these  last  weeks  I  had  not  loved  any  one  but 
myself,  but  now,  .  .  oh,  Richard!  While  you  were  so 
weak  and  I  held  your  head  in  my  lap,  I  could  close  my 
eyes  and  think  my  dream  had  come  true.  When  you 
took  me  in  your  arms  and  kissed  me  .  .  .  didn't  you 
love  me  then,  Richard?  Was  it  only  the  sip  of  wine? 
I  know  you  have  never  held  the  Stewart  lady  like  that, 
nor  kissed  her  as  you  kiss  me.  When  the  good  God 
took  your  money  away,  I  thought  He  did  it  for  me,  so 
that  we  both  could  be  poor  and  you  could  marry  me 
.  .  .  Now  I  am  afraid,  and  that  is  why  I  ask  if  the 
Stewart  lady  is  to  come  between  us." 

"What  in  the  world  possesses  you  today,  Olga?" 
Richard  demanded,  as  he  sought  to  calm  her.  "What 
does  a  little  girl  like  you  know  about  love,  any  way? 

[228] 


THE    BALANCE 


You  have  been  worrying  so  much  about  me  these  weeks 
that  some  foolish  thoughts  have  crept  into  your  mind 
.  .  »  You  don't  love  me,  Olga  .  .  .  you  are  unstrung 
over  this  whole  affair,  and  you  are  sorry  for  me.  In 
your  sweet  anxiety  you  are  still  trying  to  watch  over 
me  .  .  .  Don't  be  silly!  I  need  your  friendship  now 
more  than  I  ever  did.  What  you  have  done  for  me  is 
beyond  what  I  can  ever  repay  ...  If  there  were  any- 
thing serious  in  what  you  say  I  should  be  terribly  con- 
cerned, but  fortunately  we  don't  have  to  think  of  that. 
I'm  not  going  to  marry  any  one,  so  that  problem  needn't 
cause  us  any  worry  .  .  .  You're  not  suggesting  that 
we  should  cease  to  be  friends,  are  you?" 

"Oh,  no !  .  .  no  .  .  .  no !"  Olga  cried. 

"Then  we'll  leave  things  just  where  they  were?  .  . 
We  still  are  comrades,  and  always  will  be?" 

"You  have  told  the  Stewart  lady  all  that  you  have 
told  me?"  she  asked  again,  to  make  sure  that  there  was 
no  mistake. 

"Yes ;  exactly  that.  She  understands  the  situation 
perfectly,  and  agrees  with  me." 

Olga  was  quick  to  realize  that  if  Lola  had  acqui- 
esced, she  would  place  herself  at  a  disadvantage  by  re- 
fusing to  be  equally  generous.  But  she  could  not  yield 
without  a  last  effort  to  strengthen  her  position. 

"Then  I  suppose  I,  too,  must  agree  with  you,"  she 
said  at  length;  "but  really  I  do  not!  If  the  Stewart 
lady  gives  you  up  so  easily  she  cannot  love  you  .  .  . 
Perhaps  it  is  because  now  you  are  a  poor  man.  I  will 
never  believe  you  do  not  love  me,  Richard,  but  if  I 
make  it  hard  for  you  now  perhaps  your  love  will  turn 

[229] 


THE    BALANCE 


to  hate.  I  will  be  patient  .  .  .  But  while  we  wait  shall 
we  still  sip  the  wine  together?" 

"Of  course,"  Richard  agreed,  relieved  to  have 
straightened  Olga  out.  "Everything  is  mixed  up  now; 
but  if  you  will  be  patient,  as  you  say  you  will,  all  is 
bound  to  come  out  right." 

"Then  you  will  marry  me,"  Olga  said  with  finality; 
*'for  that  only  is  right." 


[230] 


CHAPTER     XXIV 


THE  EFFECT  on  Lola  of  her  visits  with  Richard 
was  electrifying.  Her  work  in  France  had  im- 
pressed her  with  a  sense  of  obligation,  hitherto 
unknown  and  unexpressed.  The  results  of  her  later 
efforts  to  give  this  expression  had  proved  unsatisfying. 
She  had  felt  the  necessity  for  action  and  had  succeeded 
in  making  Richard  recognize  it,  but  it  was  he  who  at 
last  supplied  something  tangible  which  she  could  grasp. 
Now  the  spirit  of  martyrdom  had  seized  her  as  it  had 
him. 

Fired  by  the  inspiration  which  comes  from  a  sym- 
pathetic listener,  Richard  put  into  words  for  the  first 
time  the  cumulative  results  of  those  days  of  solitary 
thought,  and  his  own  confidence  and  enthusiasm  were 
contagious. 

"Do  you  know,  Lola,"  he  said  to  her,  "except  for 
what  it  stands  for,  this  time  in  jail  has  its  compensa- 
tions. I  believed  I  had  my  brief  for  the  new  industrial 
relations  well  in  hand  when  I  presented  it  to  my  father, 
but  since  I  have  been  here,  with  so  much  time  to  think, 
the  idea  has  grown  beyond  anything  I  could  have  im- 
agined." 

[231] 


THE    BALANCE 


"That  is  just  what  happened  to  you  at  Toul,  wasn't 
it?"  Lola  reminded  him.  "Then  your  vision  gave  you 
the  first  suggestion  that  you  were  something  in  the 
scheme  of  things ;  now  you  have  discovered  how  to  make 
the  application  to  something  very  real." 

"What  a  blessing  it  would  be  if  every  citizen  was 
obliged  by  law  to  spend  a  month  each  year  in  solitary 
confinement,"  Richard  cried  enthusiastically,  "with  no 
one  to  talk  to,  no  books,  no  newspapers,  just  alone  with 
himself,  and  forced  to  think!  No  man  ought  to  be  al- 
lowed to  write,  or  make  a  speech,  or  advance  an  opinion 
until  he  has  solved  the  problem  in  his  own  mind  by  the 
pitiless  self-analysis  which  comes  from  an  experience 
such  as  I  am  having  here.  Oh,  Lola,  it  does  separate 
the  essentials  from  the  non-essentials,  it  does  show  up 
the  specious  emptiness  of  theories,  and  it  does  make 
the  real  things  stand  out  in  wonderful  relief  from  the 
very  blackness  of  the  background! 

From  this  starting-point,  he  outlined  to  her  his  new 
conception  of  the  work  as  he  now  saw  it  opening  up 
before  him.  He  pointed  out  the  basic  mistakes  made 
in  the  past  and  now  being  made  by  employers,  and  with 
equal  clearness  laid  bare  the  basic  error  of  labor  union- 
ism in  placing  such  stress  on  organization,  rather 
than  on  the  essentials  of  service  and  the  welfare  of  the 
working-man.  With  infinite  detail  he  showed  Lola  the 
enlarged  and  revised  plan  as  he  had  worked  it  out,  to 
eliminate  the  errors  and  to  bring  the  two  elements  to- 
gether on  a  basis  which  should  obviously  be  for  the 
advantage  of  both. 

Lola  was  thrilled  by  the  tremendous  possibilities 
[232] 


THE    BALANCE 


which  his  plan  seemed  to  contain.  It  was  all  so  plaus- 
ible, so  simple,  that  it  would  be  ridiculous  to  think  that 
it  could  fail  of  acceptance  when  Richard  explained  it 
to  the  world  as  he  had  to  her.  What  a  change  these 
few  months  had  wrought.  Then,  Richard  was  con- 
vinced that  his  idealism  was  chimerical ;  now  he  saw  so 
clearly  before  him  the  opportunity  to  make  it  practical 
that  even  a  charge  of  patricide  appeared  to  him  noth- 
ing more  serious  than  a  temporary  delay !  Then,  his 
main  thought  was  to  marry  her;  now  he  looked  upon 
marriage  as  a  handicap  until  he  had  translated  his 
theories  into  practical  realities.  At  least  Lola  could 
take  credit  to  herself  for  having  held  him  true  to  his 
course  when  he  showed  signs  of  weakening  .  .  .  but 
the  same  might  be  said  of  Richard.  At  one  point  she 
would  have  yielded  had  he  still  insisted.  Fortunately 
that  moment  came  after  he  had  gained  his  new  view- 
point, and  he  failed  to  recognize  her  weakness.  He  had 
strengthened  her  as  she  had  guided  him,  and  now  the 
old  contentment  returned.  Again  they  were  workers 
as  they  had  been  in  France,  .  .  not  as  man  or  woman, 
but  as  agents  of  a  force  greater  than  they ;  not  to  win 
the  war,  but  now,  thank  God,  to  make  possible  a  last- 
ing peace ! 

II 

Mrs.  Stewart  noted  the  change  in  Lola's  bearing, 
and  it  relieved  an  over-powering  anxiety.  Since  the 
tragedy,  Lola  had  suffered,  but  instead  of  bearing  her 
burdens  alone,  as  had  been  her  habit  since  her  home- 
coming from  France,  she  now  turned  to  her  mother  with 

[233] 


THE    BALANCE 


the  former  intimacy  which  Mrs.  Stewart  had  feared  was 
lost  forever.  Together  they  discussed  every  angle  of 
Richard's  precarious  position,  and  from  the  older  wo- 
man's unswerving  faith  in  the  justice  meted  out  by  an 
all-watchful  Providence,  the  girl  gained  a  comforting 
peace  which  comes  only  from  faith. 

Ill 

William  Stewart  the  dreamer  was  a  figure  of  the  past. 
He  would  have  told  you  that  it  was  Richard  who  first 
demonstrated  to  him  the  responsibility  which  rests  on 
those  who  have  acquired  knowledge  to  place  it  at  the 
disposition  of  the  world.  He  had  been  a  miser  all  these 
years.  From  his  travels,  from  his  books,  from  his  in- 
timate study  of  current  topics,  his  retentive  mind  had 
amassed  jewels  of  thought,  .  .  the  most  precious  treas- 
ures of  all,  yet  he  had  hoarded  them.  Like  other  misers, 
he  had  loved  to  play  with  his  wealth,  to  count  it  over, 
to  revel  in  its  possession.  When  Richard  outlined  to 
him  his  desire  to  capitalize  the  idealism  which  the  war 
had  disclosed  by  applying  it  to  a  readjustment  of  in- 
dustrial relations,  the  idea  fitted  perfectly  into  the 
theory  of  life  which  his  knowledge  told  him  was  correct, 
yet  which  he  himself  until  then  had  never  crystallized. 

At  first,  Stewart  had  listened  to  Richard  because  it 
pleased  Lola  to  have  him  do  so ;  later  he  assimilated  the 
boy's  enthusiasm.  With  the  interest  aroused,  he  had 
tested  Richard's  plan  theoretically,  and  with  some 
slight  exceptions  found  it  in  tune  with  his  own  judg- 
ment.    The  young  people  had  asked  his  assistance  in 

[234] 


THE    BALANCE 


putting  the  plan  into  practical  operation.  Again  he 
had  acquiesced  because  it  would  please  them,  but  with 
this  acquiescence  came  a  sudden  realization  of  his  per- 
sonal responsibility.  He  must  do  it  not  for  Lola  or 
for  Richard,  but  for  himself,  if  he  was  to  retain  his 
own  self-respect ;  and  having  done  this,  he  must  keep  on 
translating  his  ideas  into  action.  The  golden  knowledge 
he  had  accumulated  must  pass  into  circulation,  and 
now  he  must  learn  how  to  give  it  out  again  made  richer 
by  the  personal  application. 

Lola  saw  this  change  in  her  father  with  mingled  feel- 
ings of  surprise  and  happiness.  Therein  lay  the  dif- 
ference between  the  girl  and  her  mother.  To  these  two 
women,  William  Stewart  was  perfection.  The  elder, 
accustomed  to  his  passive  acceptance  of  her  little  tyran- 
nies, regarded  him  with  amazement  when  now  he  ven- 
tured mildly  to  insist  on  something  when  previously  he 
would  have  yielded  without  discussion.  Not  that  it 
made  any  material  difference,  for  even  the  new  person- 
ality he  disclosed  was  courtly  and  considerate. 

To  Lola,  however,  it  was  like  having  a  beautiful 
statue  suddenly  come  to  life.  The  sweet,  courteous 
disposition  lost  nothing  and  gained  much  by  the  added 
virility.  Life  assumed  for  her  a  new  interest  as  her 
father  became  a  real  part  of  affairs  which  went  on 
about  him.  At  the  present  time,  aside  from  his  new 
business  responsibilities,  Stewart's  demand  for  action 
took  the  form  of  working  unceasingly  in  Richard's  inter- 
ests in  trying  to  unravel  the  mystery  of  the  murder: 
but  thus  far  these  efforts  had  produced  nothing  tang- 
ible. 

[235] 


THE    BALANCE 


IV 

Lola  was  given  a  fresh  impetus  by  her  visits  with 
Richard  at  the  jail.  It  was  not  enough  to  continue  her 
strenuous  programme,  .  .  she  must  exceed  it.  Since 
her  return,  she  had  carried  on  her  work  with  the  ex- 
service  men  single-handed ;  now  she  impressed  every  one 
into  the  work.  Barry  was  placed  in  charge  of  her 
motor  corps,  organized  among  friends  who  owned  auto- 
mobiles, pledging  their  machines  for  a  specified  number 
of  hours  each  week  for  the  use  of  disabled  soldiers  at 
the  hospitals.  The  fact  that  chauffeurs  replaced  the 
girl  owners  was  perhaps  indicative  of  the  change  in 
the  attitude  of  the  public  since  the  time  when  the  trim 
uniforms  and  the  slight,  youthful  figures  at  the  wheels 
sped  through  the  streets  on  their  errands  of  mercy. 
Plans  were  soon  under  way  for  collecting  books  and 
magazines,  for  an  employment  agency,  for  entertain- 
ments, .  .  in  all  of  which  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Stewart  and 
their  friends  were  given  ample  opportunity  to  co-oper- 
ate. Organization  now  seemed  to  be  Lola's  shibboleth, 
and  she  herself  set  an  example  of  energy  and  industry 
which  shamed  others  into  efforts  far  beyond  their  natu- 
ral inclinations. 

"There  will  be  nothing  left  of  you  or  of  any  of  the 
rest  of  us  if  you  keep  this  up  much  longer,"  Mrs.  Stew- 
art declared  between  breaths,  exhausted  as  much  by  the 
unwonted  activity  in  the  atmosphere  as  by  her  personal 
endeavor. 

"This  is  what  I  have  wanted  to  do  ever  since  I  came 
home,"  Lola  explained.     "I  used  to  be  afraid  that  you 

[236] 


THE    BALANCE 


and  daddy  were  just  like  the  other  people  ...  I  don't 
mean  that,  dear;  but  I  did  think  you  felt  that  I  ought 
to  forget  and  settle  back  into  the  old  conventional  rou- 
tine. That  would  be  actually  criminal,  when  so  much 
remains  to  be  done.  But  now  it  is  your  work  as  well 
as  mine.  You  have  seen  with  your  own  eyes  how  nec- 
essary it  is,  and  I  don't  have  to  keep  my  feelings  all 
pent  up  inside.  I  can't  tell  you  what  a  difference  it 
makes." 

"Yes,  dear,"  her  mother  answered  seriously;  "we 
have  learned  the  necessity  better  from  being  a  part  of 
the  work  itself.  That  is  human  nature.  And  the  people 
who  are  working  with  us  are  coming  to  appreciate  the 
situation  better,  just  as  your  father  and  I  do.  But 
what  delights  me  most  is  to  see  my  child  her  old  self 
again.  I  suspect  that  you  and  Richard  have  come 
to  a  better  understanding  about  something  too  .  .  at 
any  rate  I  am  hoping  so." 

"Yes,  mother ;  we  have,"  she  acknowledged. 

"I  am  relieved,"  Mrs.  Stewart  said  frankly.  "I  was 
greatly  concerned  over  what  you  told  me  .  .  .  You 
must  be  married  immediately  after  his  acquittal." 

"Would  the  verdict  really  make  any  difference?" 
Lola  inquired  in  a  low  tone.  "If  we  are  convinced  of 
his  innocence,  and  things  go  against  him,  he  would 
need  me  more  than  ever." 

"Fortunately  we  don't  have  to  settle  that  point 
yet,"  Mrs.  Stewart  replied  evasively.  "The  main  thing 
is  that  you  have  come  to  a  realization  that  the  war 
didn't  change  the  natural  order  of  things  after  all. 
If  you  and  Richard  had  been  married  as  you  ought  to 

[237] 


THE    BALANCE 


have  been,  he  wouldn't  have  been  mixed  up  in  this  af- 
fair." 

"I'm  glad  he  was,  mother,"  Lola  surprised  her  by  say- 
ing. "It  has  proved  to  be  of  the  greatest  importance 
in  his  personal  development." 

"You  are  glad  Richard  was  arrested?" 

Mrs.  Stewart  could  scarcely  believe  her  ears. 

"Yes,"  Lola  answered  calmly;  "his  arrest  and  im- 
prisonment have  brought  him  to  his  best  self,  .  .  the 
whole  experience  has  proved  a  blessing  in  disguise." 

Mrs.  Stewart  regarded  her  daughter  with  the  utmost 
astonishment. 

"Where  will  this  madness  end!"  she  exclaimed. 

"Dick  and  I  have  passed  through  very  unusual  expe- 
riences," Lola  continued.  "They  have  been  bitter,  but 
every  cloud  has  its  silver  lining.  In  this  case,  the  silver 
lining  is  a  perfect  comprehension  of  each  other's  view- 
point. When  he  wanted  to  be  married,  for  instance,  I 
wasn't  ready  for  it ;  when  I  was  ready,  he  realized  that 
it  ought  not  to  be.  Now  we  have  both  agreed  to  drop 
all  thought  of  marriage,  and  to  devote  ourselves  wholly 
to  our  work." 

Mrs.  Stewart  looked  at  her  daughter  in  reproachful 
silence. 

"Your  engagement  is  broken?"  she  asked  at  length. 

"It  amounts  to  that,"  Lola  admitted;  "but  I  am  in 
complete  sympathy  with  Dick,  mother  dear,  and  am 
happier  than  I  ever  was  in  my  life." 

"Have  you  ceased  to  care  for  each  other?" 

The  expression  on  Lola's  face  made  her  mother  re- 
gret that  she  had  asked  the  question. 

[238] 


THE    BALANCE 


"I  don't  believe  Dick  has  ceased  to  care  ...  As  for 
me,  I  never  loved  him  so  much !  Whether  we  ever  marry 
or  not,  Richard  Norton  will  always  be  the  one  man  in 
my  life." 

"Of  course,  if  he  feels  different  .  .  ."  the  older  wo- 
man began,  still  mystified  by  Lola's  words. 

"He  doesn't,  dear  ...  I  know  he  doesn't  .  .  .  but 
at  present  his  mind  is  wholly  concentrated  on  a  big 
work.  To  accomplish  this  he  must  be  free,  and  I  gladly 
give  him  his  freedom  as  my  contribution  to  the  cause. 
Can't  you  understand,  mother  dear?  There  are  some 
things  in  life  which  are  greater  than  others.  Dick  and 
I  think  we  are  in  the  presence  of  one  which  demands 
personal  sacrifice.  It  is  I  who  am  making  it,  and  if 
it  gives  me  happiness  to  have  this  opportunity  to  prove 
my  sincerity,  surely  you  don't  blame  me  for  living  up 
to  what  I  believe  is  right." 

"I'm  not  blaming  you,  child,"  Mrs.  Stewart  hastened 
to  assure  her,  for  she  saw  tears  gathering  in  her  eyes. 
"I  can't  follow  you,  that  is  all.  The  more  I  try  the 
less  I  seem  to  understand.  I  have  been  brought  up  to 
look  upon  marriage  and  children  as  God's  work  for 
women,  and  greater  than  any  which  mortal  man  can 
find  for  us  to  do.  Perhaps  I  am  old-fashioned,  but  that 
is  how  I  feel.  For  a  good  many  centuries  love  has  been 
supposed  to  be  the  greatest  influence  in  our  lives,  and 
when  I  see  something  else  put  ahead  of  it,  I  wonder 
whether  the  present  generation  is  really  wiser  than  those 
which  went  before  it  after  all." 

"Is  it  putting  something  else  ahead  of  it,  dear? 
Isn't  it  rather  giving  love  a  broader  interpretation  to 

[239] 


THE    BALANCE 


devote  ourselves  to  making  other  people  happier  and 
better  than  to  seek  it  for  our  own  selfish  enjoyment?" 
"It  may  be,"  Mrs.  Stewart  answered  doubtfully  and 
without  enthusiasm.  "I  have  always  admired  the  Chris- 
tian martyrs,  but  it's  another  matter  when  it  strikes 
one's  own  family  ...  Of  course,  you  and  Dick  must 
work  it  out  for  yourselves." 


This  conversation  with  her  mother  unnerved  Lola. 
It  was  one  thing  to  argue  with  herself  and  another  to 
crystallize  an  idea  into  words  which  should  satisfy  one 
who  approached  it  from  an  unsympathetic  angle. 
While  with  Richard,  everything  seemed  to  fit  perfectly 
into  their  new  scheme  of  life;  when  away  from  him  an 
unexplained  something  crowded  itself  between  her  zeal 
and  her  instinct,  preventing  their  complete  co-ordina- 
tion. Sometimes  the  conflict  seemed  too  great  for  her 
to  bear,  but  then  she  gained  new  strength  by  repeating 
to  herself  that  she  was  fighting  the  good  fight,  .  .  that, 
even  though  her  course  was  still  unfinished,  thus  far 
she  had  kept  the  faith. 


[240] 


CHAPTER     XXV 


NO  ONE  realized  more  clearly  than  William 
Treadway  that  the  wealth  and  position  to  which 
he  had  so  suddenly  fallen  heir  carried  a  respon- 
sibility from  him  to  the  community  to  live  up  to  what 
their  possession  represented.  Immediately  after  the 
probating  of  James  Norton's  will,  he  made  it  known 
to  such  charitable  organizations  as  were  not  included 
as  beneficiaries,  but  which  had  previously  been  the  re- 
cipients of  his  chief's  bounty,  that  similar  support  might 
be  expected  from  him.  The  Civic  Association,  the  Con- 
gregational Church,  the  Norcross  hospital,  and  many 
other  similar  institutions,  were  gratified  to  find  that 
James  Norton's  money  had  fallen  into  such  sym- 
pathetic hands.  The  passing  of  the  Great  Man  of  Nor- 
cross was  lamented,  but  the  town  soon  accepted  the 
fact  that  his  mantle  would  fall  upon  the  shoulders  of 
his  secretary,  and  it  was  the  general  verdict  that  his 
successor  was  wearing  it  with  becoming  grace. 

Treadway  also  realized  that  a  great  man  does  more 
than  simply  give  from  his  stores,  and  he  straightway 
enlisted  his  personal  effort  in  all  the  good  works  that 
concerned  the  town,  of  which  he  was  now  so  prominent 

[241] 


THE    BALANCE 


a  part.  Lola's  activity  at  just  this  time  afforded  him 
ample  opportunity  to  be  of  service  to  her,  and  she  found 
in  him  an  efficient  and  helpful  worker  in  several  of  her 
newly-formed  organizations.  He  knew  that  she  cher- 
ished against  him  the  fact  that  he  had  not  seen  active 
service  in  the  war.  Several  of  her  quips,  which  he  had 
passed  off  lightly  at  the  time,  still  left  their  scars. 
Here  was  his  opportunity  to  heap  coals  of  fire  upon 
her  head,  and  incidentally  an  excuse  to  be  with  her  more 
frequently  than  she  would  have  permitted  under  other 
circumstances. 

"Some  day  you  will  realize  how  great  an  injustice 
you  did  me  concerning  my  war-work,"  he  said  quietly 
once  in  Lola's  "office,"  when  she  complimented  him  on 
some  work  he  had  just  successfully  completed.  "You 
said  that  those  who  stayed  at  home  cannot  understand 
the  feelings  of  the  boys  who  got  into  it;  I'll  say  that 
those  who  got  into  it  can't  understand  the  feelings  of 
those  who  had  to  stay  at  home." 

"I  suppose  that's  true,  Billy,"  Lola  admitted,  will- 
ing at  least  to  give  him  the  benefit  of  the  doubt.  "I 
don't  mean  to  be  unjust,  but  I'm  afraid  I  can  never 
understand  how  any  man  able  to  see  service  could  per- 
mit anything  to  stop  him." 

"Sometimes  it's  harder  to  do  the  things  we  have  to 
do  than  those  which  people  think  we  ought  to  do," 
Treadway  remarked  seriously.  "If  I  wore  a  stripe  for 
every  wound  the  world  has  given  me  for  sticking  to 
what  was  shown  me  to  be  my  duty  .  .  against  my  will, 
I'd  be  a  hero." 

"But  you  wouldn't  be  hobbling  along  on  one  leg 
[242] 


THE    BALANCE 


like  Barry,  or  sleeping  over  in  France,  or  up  in  the 
cemetery,  like  Jack  Munsey,  still  waiting  for  your  War 
Risk  payments  to  come  through  .  .  .  Let's  not  talk 
about  that,  Billy.  You  said  to  me  once,  'All  that  hur- 
rah boys  stuff  has  gone  into  the  discard  now.'  With 
a  lot  of  people  I  think  it  has.  I'm  one  of  those  who 
still  feel  a  thrill  when  the  'Star  Spangled  Banner'  is 
played,  and  still  believe  that  there  is  something  worth 
while  going  to  come  out  of  those  awful  years  which 
hasn't  come  out  yet,  so  I  simply  can't  understand  the 
attitude  these  people  take  I'm  not  knocking  you  in 
particular,  Billy.  I've  no  doubt  that  you  and  all  these 
other  people  have  acted  conscientiously,  and  that  is 
all  you  have  to  consider.  I  have  my  own  conscience, 
and  that  keeps  me  busy  enough  trying  to  live^  up  to  its 
demands.  Truly,  I  don't  mean  to  be  disagreeable ;  but 
you  started  the  conversation,  and  I  have  to  say  what 
I  really  think." 

"If  you  feel  that  way  about  me,  Lola,  perhaps  I'd 
better  not  continue  this  work  I'm  doing  for  you," 
Treadway  said  abruptly,  resentful  of  her  continued 
criticism. 

"Work  for  me,  Billy  ?"  she  inquired.  "I  thought  you 
were  doing  it  to  make  the  boys  who  protected  those 
who  were  kept  at  home  in  essential  industries  realize 
that  their  sacrifices  were  appreciated.  You  don't  mean 
to  say  that  you  have  been  doing  this  for  me?" 

Treadway  looked  at  her  steadily  for  a  moment.  No 
one  ever  spoke  to  him  as  Lola  did,  no  one  ever  made 
him  feel  so  thoroughly  uncomfortable.  Everything 
else  he  had  craved  and  planned  for  had  come  to  him 

[243] 


THE    BALANCE 


except  Lola  Stewart.  She  sat  there  in  her  desk-chair 
with  apparently  no  idea  that  she  was  disciplining  him, 
yet  in  every  word  he  felt  a  sting.  Lola  could  not  realize 
how  cruel  she  really  was.  If  she  felt  as  strongly  as 
her  words  seemed  to  indicate,  she  would  not  treat  him 
with  such  consideration,  or  accept  his  co-operation. 
Treadway  had  trained  himself  to  take  the  bitter  with 
the  sweet  whenever  the  sweet  was  eventually  assured. 
With  his  confidence  in  himself,  he  could  not  doubt  the 
ultimate  result  of  his  determination  to  overcome  oppo- 
sition in  this  instance  as  in  all  the  others.  Success  had 
come  to  be  a  habit  with  him,  and  temporary  rebuffs  were 
only  incidents  in  the  day's  run.  At  the  same  time, 
Treadway  was  sufficiently  astute  to  appreciate  the  fact 
that  at  present  he  was  on  the  wrong  track,  so  with  his 
usual  agility  he  shunted  onto  a  safer  route. 

"Of  course  I'm  doing  it  for  the  boys,"  he  protested 
vigorously.  "At  the  same  time  I  don't  see  anything 
unpatriotic  in  saying  that  it  is  a  particular  pleasure 
to  me  to  be  working  with  you.  You  know  how  I  feel 
toward  you,  Lola.  I've  worked  like  a  slave  all  my  life 
to  get  where  I  am  today.  I've  taken  chances  that  an- 
other man  wouldn't  have  had  the  nerve  to  take,  and  I've 
won  out.  Now  I've  got  everything  in  the  world  I  want 
except  you  .  .  .  No.  I'm  not  going  to  propose  to  you 
again,"  he  added  quickly,  as  she  started  to  protest.  "I 
know  how  anxious  you  are  about  Dick,  and  I  respect  it. 
He  has  first  claim,  of  course.  All  I  ask  is  that  you  let 
me  stand  next.  Dick  is  in  a  serious  situation.  If  the 
expected  happens,  it  will  be  a  terrible  blow  to  you. 
In  that  case  I  want  to  be  permitted  to  be  near  you,  to 

[244] 


THE    BALANCE 


comfort  you,  and  to  help  you  face  the  world  again 
after  the  suffering  you  will  have  to  endure." 

"You  can't  really  think  he  will  be  convicted!"  Lola 
cried,  forgetful  of  all  else  that  Treadway  had  said. 
"If  you  could  see  him  and  talk  with  him  as  I  have,  you 
would  know  that  Richard  Norton  never  shot  his  father." 

"There,  there,"  Treadway  sought  to  calm  her.  "I 
didn't  mean  to  bring  back  the  spectre;  but  perhaps  it 
is  just  as  well  for  you  to  begin  to  prepare  yourself. 
I  have  gone  over  matters  with  every  one  connected  with 
the  unfortunate  affair,  and  there  seems  to  be  no  evidence 
to  connect  any  one  else  with  the  murder.  It  is  most 
distressing  to  be  obliged  to  give  my  testimony:  I,  the 
beneficiary  of  Mr.  Norton's  generosity,  against  his 
son,  who  has  been  cut  off  in  my  favor.  And  yet  .  .  . 
does  not  Mr.  Norton's  action  make  even  clearer  the 
relations  which  existed  between  the  two?  I  hope  Dick's 
lawyer  will  put  in  a  defence  of  temporary  insanity.  If  I 
were  assured  that  Richard  would  acknowledge  his  act, 
while  denying  his  responsibility,  I  might  be  of  assist- 
ance by  giving  testimony  which  would  strengthen  his 
case." 

Lola  smiled  sadly. 

"You  don't  understand  Dick,"  she  said  firmly.  "That 
boy  doesn't  know  what  compromise  is.  If  he  had  shot 
his  father  impulsively  or  in  anger  he  would  be  the  first 
to  admit  it,  and  to  insist  on  receiving  the  utmost  pen- 
alty. Not  having  done  it,  he  has  no  anxiety  about  the 
outcome.  His  confidence  is  sublime.  Dick  is  today 
thinking  not  of  himself  but  of  the  great  work  he  has 
to  do  after  he  is  acquitted.     The  experience,  awful  as 

[245] 


THE    BALANCE 


it  is,  has  brought  out  in  him  that  wonderful  strength 
and  character  which  he  had  allowed  to  lie  dormant 
since  his  return  home." 

Treadway  shook  his  head  soberly. 

"I'm  afraid  it  is  all  part  of  the  same  madness,"  he 
insisted ;  "but  it  will  naturally  go  to  help  him.  No  man 
in  his  right  mind  could  fail  to  realize  his  danger,  and 
what  every  one  tells  me  of  his  indifference  confirms  me 
in  my  apprehensions  .  *  .  Lola,"  hei  said  suddenly, 
changing  the  subject  abruptly,  "if  it  were  not  for 
Richard,  wouldn't  I  stand  some  chance  of  winning  you?" 

The  question  came  so  unexpectedly  that  for  a  mo- 
ment the  girl  was  caught  off  her  guard. 

"I  never  intend  to  marry  any  one,"  she  said  quickly, 
and  promptly  regretted  having  said  it. 

"Not  even  Dick?"  Treadway  demanded. 

"Not  even  Dick,"  Lola  answered. 

Treadway  was  completely  mystified. 

"But  I  thought  you  were  confident  that  He  would  be 
acquitted  .  .  ." 

"I  am.  That  is  why  I  speak  so  definitely.  If  Dick 
were  convicted,  I  should  probably  change  my  mind." 

"Of  course  I  have  no  right  to  ask,  but  is  your  en- 
gagement broken?" 

"Dick  and  I  have  decided  that  we  can  do  what  we 
have  to  do  better  if  we  are  absolutely  free." 

"I  told  you  he  was  out  of  his  head !"  Treadway  de- 
clared. "If  that  doesn't  prove  it  I  don't  know  what 
does.     So  Richard  has  .  .  ." 

"He  has  done  nothing  of  the  sort,"  Lola  interrupted 
him  indignantly,  thoroughly  incensed  by  the  turn  the 

[246] 


THE    BALANCE 


conversation  had  taken.  "You  had  no  right  to  question 
me,  and  I  ought  not  to  have  answered  you." 

Treadway  was  distinctly  interested.  Lola's  protest 
was  so  violent  that  he  was  convinced  that  unexpectedly 
he  had  hit  upon  the  truth.  Nothing  but  mortification 
would  cause  that  sudden  rush  of  color  to  her  cheeks 
and  bring  the  tears  to  her  eyes. 

"But  you  did  answer,"  he  said  deliberately,  "and  you 
are  giving  me  further  information  now.  All  this  is  sur- 
prising and  encouraging.  Of  course  he  did  it  for  your 
sake.  Very  manly  of  him,  I'll  say.  And  now  where 
do  I  come  in?" 

"You  don't  come  in,"  Lola  cried,  exasperated,  rising 
to  her  feet.  "On  the  contrary,  this  is  where  you  go  out ! 
It  is  cowardly  of  you  to  take  advantage  of  me,  and 
I  don't  intend  to  give  you  another  chance." 

"Your  loyalty  to  Dick  under  the  circumstances  is 
splendid,"  Treadway  bowed  graciously. 

"My  loyalty  is  based  on  faith.  The  real  murderer 
is  sure  to  be  found.  There  were  others  who  had  the 
chance." 

"Who,  for  instance?"  he  demanded. 

"You,  for  one,"  she  declared,  making  a  random  shot 
in  her  anger. 

Treadway's  face  went  white. 

"You   don't  really   believe  .  .  ." 

"I  am  simply  answering  your  question,"  Lola  re- 
plied, holding  her  head  high  as  she  marched  past  him. 
"I'll  leave  you  to  close  the  office." 


[247] 


CHAPTER     XXVI 


IF  IT  appears  that  Barry  O'Carolan  has  been  neg- 
lected in  these  recent  chronicles,  it  must  not  be  as- 
sumed that  he  has  ceased  to  be  a  part  of  life  at 
Norcross.  When  one  glances  at  his  watch,  he  is  con- 
scious only  of  its  hands  and  face,  yet  the  myriads  of 
smaller  pieces  which  together  constitute  its  mechanism 
are  performing  their  more  humble  functions  with 
faithful  accuracy  and  regularity. 

All  Barry's  actual  knowledge  of  the  tragedy  came 
from  the  many  and  conflicting  stories  which  passed 
from  mouth  to  mouth.  Like  Richard's  other  friends, 
he  was  unable  to  explain  his  loyalty  in  the  face  of  the 
facts  as  known ;  but  nothing  could  swerve  him  from  his 
conviction   of  "the   Capt'n's"   innocence. 

"I  know  from  his  face  that  he  would  always  fight 
fair.  He  never  did  it,"  was  Barry's  invariable  state- 
ment at  the  close  of  every  argument. 

The  coming  of  the  frost  in  the  garden  lessened 
Barry's  duties  so  that  even  with  Lola's  motor  corps 
added  to  his  responsibilities  he  found  himself  with  more 
time  on  his  hands  than  he  liked.  Mrs.  Stewart  still 
kept  him  supplied  with  books,  but  somehow  Barry  could 

[248  J 


THE    BALANCE 


not  concentrate  upon  them.  He  was  impelled  to  action. 
He  felt  himself  in  the  midst  of  a  real  drama,  being 
enacted  all  around  him,  and  for  the  time  fictitious  char- 
acters lost  their  power  to  interest.  Richard  was  ever 
uppermost  in  his  mind,  and  Barry  found  opportunity  to 
discuss  the  case  in  some  phase  with  nearly  all  the  eye- 
witnesses. 

Richard  was  not  the  only  one  in  Norcross  who  sug- 
gested Tony  Lemholtz's  name  in  connection  with  the 
murder,  and  it  was  in  Tony's  direction  that  Barry  men- 
tally pointed  the  finger  of  suspicion.  In  fact,  Lemholtz 
was  made  so  uncomfortable  by  the  unspoken  charges 
that  he  would  have  left  town  except  for  the  fact  that  he 
was  held  as  a  witness  by  the  Grand  Jury.  As  the 
State  had  not  taken  action  against  him,  no  one  had 
the  temerity  to  translate  his  suspicions  into  charges, 
but  many  of  Tony's  closest  cronies  dropped  their  for- 
mer intimacy  and  awaited  developments. 

II 

One  afternoon,  for  lack  of  something  better  to  do, 
Barry  hobbled  over  to  the  Norton  place,  where  he 
knew  things  had  gone  at  sixes  and  sevens  since  the  death 
of  its  master  and  the  less  personal  attention  of  the  ad- 
ministrators. Old  Hannah  was  in  charge,  and  she, 
Barry  was  well  aware,  would  never  listen  to  any  word 
against  "Mr.  Richard."  It  was  an  opportunity  to  com- 
mune with  a  kindred  spirit,  and  Barry  craved  reassur- 
ance after  an  argument  with  one  of  the  townspeople  who 
had  personally  tried,  convicted,  and  executed  the 
prisoner. 

[249] 


THE    BALANCE 


Hannah  welcomed  Barry  with  genuine  delight,  for 
she,  poor  soul,  had  little  opportunity  to  keep  in  touch 
with  the  progress  of  affairs.  "Mr.  Richard"  was  still 
her  "boy,"  and  he  was  in  trouble.  Many  a  heartburn 
had  she  experienced  in  the  great  house  on  the  Hill  when 
the  master  made  Richard  suffer  from  his  tyranny.  She 
had  been  powerless  to  intervene  then,  as  she  was  power- 
less now.  She  kept  him  supplied  in  jail  with  luscious 
mince  and  pumpkin  pies,  which  had  made  his  mouth 
water  ever  since  he  was  a  small  boy.  While  she  baked 
them  she  recalled  the  time  when  she  discovered  the 
youthful  Richard  with  half  a  pie  in  each  hand,  and 
chuckled  to  herself  as  she  remembered  how  he  averted 
her  threatened  scolding  by  saying  archly,  "If  you  don't 
want  me  to  steal  'em,  Hannah,  you  mustn't  make  'em 
so  good!" 

This  service  to  the  boy  was  slight,  but  like  the  Juggler 
of  Notre  Dame,  it  was  the  best  she  had  to  give  .  .  . 
and  it  satisfied  her  craving;  but  her  heart  yearned  for 
news  and  for  comforting  assurances  which  could  come 
only  from  one  who  agreed  with  her  that  Richard  could 
do  no  wrong. 

Hannah  did  not  question  the  fact  that  Richard  had 
fired  the  shot,  but  she  considered  the  provocation  given 
by  the  old  man  ample  justification  for  the  act. 

"If  you'd  seen  and  heard  what  I  have,  Barry  O'Car- 
olan,  you'd  wonder  that  Mr.  Richard  hadn't  done  it 
before,"  she  declared.  "My  poor  boy  .  .  .  how  that 
old  man  abused  him!" 

"The  Capt'n  never  did  it,"  Barry  declared  stoutJy. 
"He  might  have  got  mad  and  punched  his  father  in 

[250] 


THE    BALANCE 


the  face,  or  cursed  him  out,  or  somethin'  like  that,  but 
he'd  never  shoot  any  one  without  givin'  him  a  chance. 
The  Capt'n  isn't  that  kind  of  a  feller." 

"But  he  admitted  it  was  his  revolver,"  Hannah  ex- 
claimed, surprised  that  there  was  any  doubt  as  to  the 
responsibility.  "I  was  always  scared  of  that  revolver, 
every  time  I  dusted  the  mantel-piece  in  the  library. 
I  used  to  look  at  it  and  think  of  the  hundreds  of  Ger- 
mans Mr.  Richard  must  have  shot  with  it,  and  it  made 
me  squirm." 

"You  needn't  have  been  scared,"  Barry  tried  to  re- 
assure her.     "It  prob'ly  wasn't  loaded." 

"Oh,  yes ;  it  was.  I  spoke  of  it  once  when  Mr.  Tread- 
way  was  cleaning  it.  He  had  it  open,  and  I  saw  the 
part  with  the  bullets  in  it.  I  used  to  wish  Mr.  Richard 
had  taken  it  with  him  when  he  left  home.  It  kept  re- 
minding me  of  him." 

Barry  sprang  from  his  chair  so  suddenly  that  he 
nearly  lost  his  balance. 

"Didn't  the  Capt'n  take  that  gun  with  him?" 

"Oh,  no;  it  lay  here  on  the  mantel-piece  for  two  or 
three  weeks  after  he  went  away.    I  wisht  he  had." 

"What  became  of  it  then?"  Barry  demanded  excit- 
edly. 

"I  never  knew.  P'raps  Mr.  Treadway  sent  it  over 
to  Mr.  Richard.  P'raps  that's  why  he  was  cleaning 
it  up." 

"You  stay  right  here,  and  don't  you  say  anythin'  to 
anybody  'til  I  get  back,"  Barry  cried,  leaving  Hannah 
aghast,  in  the  belief  that  he  had  suddenly  lost  his  reason. 

[251] 


THE    BALANCE 


III 

Barry's  wooden  leg  never  made  such  rapid  progress 
as  when  it  covered  the  distance  between  the  Norton  place 
and  Mr.  Stewart's  house.  He  was  not  sure  just  what 
this  information  he  had  gleaned  might  be  worth,  but 
his  instinct  told  him  it  was  valuable. 

The  Stewarts  were  in  the  library,  discussing  the 
ever-present  subject  when  Barry  arrived.  With  them 
was  the  most  famous  criminal  lawyer  the  metropolis 
could  supply.  Mr.  Stewart  was  determined  that  Rich- 
ard should  have  the  advantage  of  the  highest  legal  de- 
fence, and  the  name  of  the  counsel  retained  guaranteed 
full  protection  of  his  rights  The  lawyer  had  held  con- 
ferences with  the  prisoner,  and  gone  over  the  ground 
thoroughly  with  several  of  those  who  had  witnessed 
the  tragedy. 

"Young  Norton  is  of  little  use  to  us  in  the  defence," 
the  lawyer  declared.  "He  does  not  sense  the  gravity  of 
his  position.  It  is  all  very  well  to  have  this  supreme 
confidence,  but  his  simple  reiteration  of  his  innocence 
won't  go  far  with  a  jury." 

"You  have  gained  nothing  from  the  others  which 
could  be  made  of  value?"  Stewart  asked  anxiously. 

"Absolutely  nothing.  His  best  friends  are  doing 
what  they  can  to  convict  him  by  emphasizing  the  provo- 
cation." 

"I  left  word  we  were  not  to  be  disturbed,"  Mrs.  Stew- 
art explained  quietly  to  the  maid  who  appeared  at  the 
door. 

"It's  Barry,  madam,  who  insists  on  seeing  Miss 
[252] 


THE    BALANCE 


Lola.  I  told  him  you  were  engaged,  but  he  is  most  per- 
sistent." 

"Tell  him  I'll  see  him  in  the  morning,"  Lola  instructed 
her. 

"Lemholtz  seems  to  be  the  only  one  who  would  have 
been  likely  to  shoot  Norton,"  Mr.  Stewart  resumed  as 
the  maid  retired. 

"Yes,"  the  lawyer  admitted;  "I've  gone  into  that. 
He  had  threatened  Norton  .  .  ." 

"Didn't  Mrs.  Stewart  make  herself  clear?"  Mr.  Stew- 
art said  sternly  to  the  maid,  who  reappeared  at  the 
door. 

"Yes,  sir;  I'm  sorry,  but  Barry  says  he  must  see 
Miss  Lola  at  once.     It's  about  Mr.  Richard  .  .  ." 

"Perhaps  he  has  discovered  something,"  Lola  ex- 
claimed. "Please  let  him  come  in  .  .  .  He's  my  relic 
of  the  war,"  she  explained  to  the  lawyer. 

Barry  was  abashed  to  find  a  stranger  present.  He 
had  not  hesitated  to  force  himself  upon  the  Stewarts, 
for  he  knew  that  they  would  understand;  but  with  a 
stranger  present  he  was  much  confused. 

"It's  all  right,  Barry,"  Lola  checked  his  broken 
apologies.  "This  is  the  lawyer  who  is  going  to  help 
Mr.  Richard,  so  if  you  have  anything  to  tell  us  about 
him,  now  is  just  the  time." 

"It's  about  the  Capt'n's  gun,"  he  said  abruptly. 

Barry  instantly  found  himself  surrounded  by  in- 
tensely interested  listeners. 

"What  about  the  gun?"  the  lawyer  demanded,  as 
Barry  hesitated. 

"It  was  lyin'  on  the  mantel-piece  in  the  Norton  house 
[253] 


THE    BALANCE 


for  two  or  three  weeks  after  the  Capt'n  left  home." 

"How  do  you  know  that?"  was  the  lawyer's  crisp 
inquiry. 

"Hannah,  the  woman  over  at  Norton's,  just  told  me." 

"Who  took  it  away?  .  .  I  must  see  this  woman  at 
once." 

"She  don't  know,  sir,  but  she  saw  Mr.  Treadway 
handlin'  it.  She  thinks  he  might  have  sent  it  to  Mr. 
Richard,  but  .  .  ." 

"Treadway?"  the  lawyer  repeated  slowly,  turning 
to  the  Stewarts.  "He  is  the  chief  witness  against  the 
prisoner,  and  the  man  who  urges  us  to  put  in  a  plea 
of  insanity  .  .  .  And,  by  George !  he  is  the  beneficiary 
in  Norton's  will,  isn't  he?  Curious  we  hadn't  thought 
of  him.  Why  couldn't  we  have  used  the  gun?  This 
woman  at  Norton's  has  given  us  the  clew." 

"Billy  Treadway  is  hateful  and  impertinent,"  Lola 
exclaimed,  still  nursing  her  resentment,  "but  one  could 
never  think  of  him  as  the  murderer." 

She  spoke  with  such  feeling  that  the  lawyer  looked 
at  her  surprised.  The  flush  in  her  cheeks  told  his 
trained  eyes  something  he  did  not  know  before. 

"There's  a  motive,  any  way,  .  .  .  perhaps  more  than 
one,"  the  lawyer  insisted,  .  .  "and  the  opportunity." 

"I  agree  with  Lola,"  Mr,  Stewart  added.  "I've 
known  Treadway  a  long  time.  I've  seen  him  every  day 
since  this  happened.  Why,  the  codicil  is  dated  only 
a  fortnight  before  Norton's  death.  Treadway  would 
never  have  taken  a  chance  like  that  when  the  property 
was  sure  to  come  to  him  anyway." 

"He  might  not  have  known  of  the  existence  of  the 
[254] 


THE    BALANCE 


codicil,"  the  lawyer  contended,  still  thinking  aloud 
.  .  .  "At  all  events  this  evidence  confirms  young  Nor- 
ton's claim  that  the  revolver  was  not  in  his  possession, 
which  is  a  big  point." 

"Is  what  I  told  you  any  good?"  Barry  asked 
anxiously,  uncomfortable  in  the  presence  of  the  great 
lawyer,  and  eager  to  get  away. 

"Yes,  Barry  .  .  J"  Lola  assured  him ;  "it  may  prove 
most  important." 

"Don't  talk  about  this  outside,"  the  lawyer  cautioned 
as  Barry  departed.  Then  he  resumed  his  conversation 
with  Mr.  Stewart. 

"We  can't  afford  to  overlook  any  one  in  a  case  like 
this,"  he  said,  referring  to  Treadway.  "You  think  it 
absurd  to  consider  young  Norton  as  the  slayer  of  his 
father,  yet  he  is  held  by  the  Grand  Jury  as  the  probable 
murderer,  and  we  don't  feel  any  too  sure  that  we  can 
prove  his  innocence  at  the  trial.  Lemholtz  was  vin- 
dictive, but  he  had  no  special  motive ;  this  man  Tread- 
way  had  a  motive,  a  powerful  one,  and  apparently  an 
opportunity  to  get  hold  of  young  Norton's  gun.  Why 
is  he  so  concerned  to  have  the  insanity  plea  put  in? 
One  of  these  three  men  obviously  shot  Norton.  It  may 
be  ridiculous,  but  what  this  man  has  just  told  us  is 
the  first  tangible  thing  I've  found  to  work  on  .  .  I  sug- 
gest that  we  go  over  to  the  Norton  place,  now." 

"Have  you  talked  with  Henry  Cross?"  Stewart  in- 
quired. 

"Cross?    No;  where  does  he  come  in?" 

"He  asked  me  at  the  bank  yesterday  who  Richard's 
[255] 


THE    BALANCE 


lawyer  was,  and  I  gave  him  your  name.     I  don't  know 
what  he  had  in  mind." 

"Suppose  we  find  out,"  the  lawyer  suggested,  look- 
ing at  his  watch.  "If  it  has  any  bearing  on  this  case, 
perhaps  he  would  come  over." 

IV 

A  telephone  call  discovered  Henry  Cross  at  home, 
and  eager  to  see  the  lawyer.  Within  fifteen  minutes 
he  had  joined  the  group  in  the  Stewart  library.  The 
old  man's  face  was  ashen,  his  cheeks  so  drawn  that  the 
lines  age  had  written  there  were  accentuated.  As  Stew- 
art introduced  Cross  to  the  lawyer  he  was  struck  by 
his  physical  condition,  and  commented  on  it  sympa- 
thetically. 

"I'll  be  all  right  when  I  get  this  off  my  mind,"  Cross 
replied  gravely.  "This  is  James  Norton's  persecution 
of  me  in  death  for  the  trouble  I  gave  him  during  his 
lifetime.  That  man  may  be  dead  .  .  ."  he  shook  his 
finger  impressively  .  .  .  "he  may  be  dead,  but  I  tell 
you  he  has  more  power  over  me  today  than  any  living 
man  I  know." 

The  lawyer  glanced  at  Stewart  inquiringly,  but  be- 
fore he  could  speak  Cross  continued. 

"I  have  always  hated  him,"  he  declared;  "and  for 
twenty  years  I  laid  traps  to  catch  him,  but  every  time 
he  was  smarter  than  I  was  and  he  licked  me.  Then 
I  bought  commercial  paper  of  his  Company,  with  the 
idea  of  making  trouble  for  him  when  the  inflation  bub- 
ble burst.  I  thought  I  had  him  at  last,  but  I  was 
swindled  by  that  slick  secretary  of  his  into  renewing 

[256] 


THE    BALANCE 


some  notes.  Norton  told  me  they  were  forged.  He  got 
all  excited,  as  he  used  to,  and  left  me  at  the  bank  with 
a  promise  that  he  would  turn  Treadway  over  to  the  law. 
Then  he  was  shot.  Treadway  came  right  down  to  see 
me,  and  for  a  time  he  made  me  believe  that  Norton  was 
the  crook.  But  he  wasn't,  and  that  is  where  Norton 
scored  on  me  again.  I  wanted  to  think  so,  but  I  sus- 
picioned  that  smart  Aleck,  and  my  conscience  troubled 
me  until  I  showed  these  notes  to  an  expert.  He  says 
every  one  of  them  is  forged  .  .  .  just  as  Norton 
told  me." 

"By  Treadway?" 

Stewart  and  the  lawyer  asked  the  question  simul- 
taneously. 

"By  Treadway,"  Cross  declared  solemnly.  "Now 
James  Norton  is  grinning  in  his  grave  at  my  losing  all 
that  money  trying  to  spite  him,  and  coming  here  with 
the  evidence  that  will  save  his  son." 

"Have  you  such  evidence?"  the  lawyer  demanded 
sternly.  "The  fact  that  the  notes  were  forged  does  not 
prove  that  Treadway  was  the  forger." 

Again  the  old  man  shook  his  finger  impressively. 

"James  Norton  was  shot  by  William  Treadway  to 
prevent  the  knowledge  of  these  forgeries  from  becoming 
known.  How  he  got  hold  of  Richard's  gun  I  don't 
know,  but  the  strikers'  raid  on  the  office  gave  him  his 
chance  to  kill  his  man  and  throw  the  blame  on  some 
one  else.  Norton  left  me  an  hour  before  the  murder 
with  a  promise  to  turn  Treadway  over  to  the  authori- 
ties. Treadway  admitted  to  me  that  they  had  dis- 
cussed the  matter.     Since  then  he  has  offered  to  buy 

[257] 


THE    BALANCE 


the  notes  from  me  .  .  .  for  what  else  than  to  destroy 
the  evidence?  If  you  need  any  more  than  that  to  con- 
vict Treadway  of  the  murder,  you're  not  the  lawyer 
I  take  you  to  be  .  »  .  But  it  is  James  Norton  who  made 
me  come  to  you.    Now  I  hope  he'll  leave  me  in  peace." 

The  hush  that  fell  on  the  little  group  in  the  Stewart 
library  evidenced  the  dramatic  value  of  the  old  man's 
words.  He  was  so  shaken  it  was  necessary  to  assist 
him  into  his  carriage,  and  Stewart  sent  his  butler  to 
see  him  safely  home.  When  he  returned  to  the  library 
Stewart  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"I  cannot  believe  it  possible  .  .  .  Treadway  a  forger 
and  a  murderer  .  .  %" 

"Twice  a  murderer,"  Lola  cried  hotly,  .  .  "placing 
the  responsibility  of  his  crime  upon  the  shoulders  of 
an  innocent  man!" 

"This  has  been  an  eventful  afternoon,"  the  lawyer 
remarked  with  obvious  satisfaction.  "With  the  in- 
formation we  now  have  it  ought  to  be  fairly  simple 
to  reconstruct  the  case.  Treadway  is  now  held  by  the 
Grand  Jury  as  witness.  Perhaps  before  the  trial  is  over 
we  may  arrange  for  the  witness  and  the  prisoner  to 
exchange  places !  .  .  Come,  let  us  follow  the  scent  over 
at  Norton's." 


[258] 


CHAPTER     XXVII 


THOSE  residents  of  Norcross  who  selected  the 
town  as  an  abiding-place  because  of  the  quiet 
calm  of  country  life  found  themselves  obliged 
to  reconstruct  their  hypothesis.  The  strike  proved 
the  first  disturbing  influence ;  later,  the  murder  of  James 
Norton  and  the  arrest  of  his  son  forced  the  tempera- 
ture to  fever-heat,  and  centered  the  thoughts  of  every 
one  upon  the  trial.  Then  came  the  unexpected  climax, 
which  left  even  those  citizens  with  a  reputation  for 
intelligence  and  self-control  gaping  at  each  other,  won- 
dering where  the  drama  was  going  to  end. 

The  court-house,  during  the  hectic  days  of  the  Nor- 
ton trial,  proved  hopelessly  inadequate  to  accomodate 
the  surging  mass  of  would-be  spectators  who  clamored 
for  admission.  Every  resident  of  Norcross  considered 
himself  personally  interested,  and  those  excluded  by 
lack  of  space  looked  upon  the  fact  as  personal  discrim- 
ination. To  most  of  them,  the  trial  was  a  holiday  spec- 
tacle rather  than  an  exhibition  of  Justice  exercising 
her  function,  .  .  a  display  of  blood-lust  handed  down 
perhaps  from  their  Puritan  ancestors  who  abolished 
the  sport  of  bear-baiting  not  because  it  gave  pain  to 

[259] 


THE    BALANCE 


the  bear  but  because  of  the  pleasure  derived  by  the  spec- 
tators. Richard  Norton,  already  a  picturesque  charac- 
ter in  the  town  life  from  the  importance  of  his  family, 
his  war-service,  and  his  leadership  of  the  Norton  work- 
men, loomed  large  as  a  drawing-card. 

Except  among  his  immediate  friends,  the  fact  of 
Richard's  guilt  was  generally  accepted,  so  the  interest 
in  the  case  centered  in  the  nature  of  the  defence  and 
the  verdict.  Treadway  was  the  chief  witness  for  the 
State,  and  after  his  testimony  it  seemed  merely  a  per- 
functory action  for  Richard's  lawyer  to  attempt  any 
cross-examination.  The  spectators  were  amazed,  when 
Treadway  was  turned  over  to  him,  to  have  the  lawyer 
force,  by  a  series  of  cumulative  questions,  a  flat  declar- 
ation that  Treadway  saw  the  shot  fired;  for  this  final 
statement  seemed  absolutely  fatal  to  young  Norton. 
If  it  was  hoped  that  by  proving  him  a  perjurer  his 
testimony  against  Richard  would  be  invalidated,  the 
purpose  failed,  for  a  majority  of  those  in  the  court- 
room looked  upon  Treadway's  reluctance  to  disclose 
his  full  knowledge  of  the  facts  as  an  act  of  sublime  loy- 
alty to  his  friend  rather  than  an  effort  to  subvert  the 
action  of  the  law. 

With  the  closing  of  the  case  for  the  State  the  great 
lawyer  brought  into  action  those  characteristics  which 
had  given  him  his  reputation.  First  he  placed  old 
Hannah  on  the  stand  and  established  the  fact  that  the 
revolver  had  been  in  the  Norton  house  after  Richard 
left  home,  and  that  Treadway  had  handled  it.  Through 
Henry  Cross  he  brought  the  forged  notes  into  the  case, 
and  the  discovery  of  Treadway's  criminality  by  James 

[260] 


THE    BALANCE 


Norton.  Alec  Sterling  testified  that  both  the  prisoner's 
hands  were  extended  in  supplication  at  the  moment  the 
shot  was  fired,  and  Tony  Lemholtz  swore  reluctantly 
that  although  standing  as  close  to  him  as  Treadway 
did,  he  saw  nothing  of  the  gun  until  the  officer  lifted 
the  weapon  from  the  floor  and  showed  it  to  the  prisoner. 
Finally,  the  handwriting  expert  was  placed  on  the 
stand  to  pronounce  the  signatures  to  the  notes  obvious 
forgeries. 

"I  am  offering  no  defence  for  the  prisoner,**  the 
lawyer  summed  up,  "as  innocence  needs  no  defence.  The 
law  seeks  to  protect  the  community  by  employing  its 
strength  to  detect  and  punish  the  wrong-doer,  but  in 
the  exercise  of  its  powerful  function  it  wraps  its  majesty 
with  special  care  about  those  falsely  accused  to  prevent 
the  miscarriage  of  its  justice.  By  taking  advantage 
of  a  strategic  moment,  staged  as  if  in  his  single  inter- 
est, this  man  here"  *  .  .  the  lawyer  pointed  his  finger 
dramatically  at  Treadway  .  .  .  "this  man  here  was 
enabled,  by  an  act  so  quickly  conceived  and  skilfully 
executed  as  to  do  credit  to  his  cleverness,  to  remove 
his  accuser  and  place  the  responsibility  upon  the  head 
of  an  innocent  man.  Not  content  with  the  assassina- 
tion of  his  friend  and  benefactor,  he  nonchalantly  as- 
sumes possession  of  the  vast  property  which  he  knows 
to  belong  rightfully  to  his  benefactor's  $on,  since 
which  time,  while  waiting  for  the  law,  misled  by 
perjured  testimony,  to  aid  him  unwittingly  in  his  nefa- 
rious scheme,  he  has  taken  his  place  among  his  fellow- 
citizens  as  an  honored  member  of  the  community,  enjoy- 
ing their   confidence,    contributing   to   their   charities, 

[261] 


THE    BALANCE 


sympathizing  with  the  unfortunate  prisoner,  and  even 
having  the  audacity  to  suggest  the  line  of  his  defence 
.  .  .  Why  were  you  so  insistent  that  a  plea  of  tempor- 
ary insanity  be  entered?"  the  lawyer  demanded,  point- 
ing suddenly  at  Treadway  .  .  .  "Why,  except  through 
fear  that  sooner  or  later  your  own  guilt  would  be  de- 
tected! .  .  Gentlemen  of  the  jury,  in  all  the  long  ex- 
perience I  have  had  in  the  practice  of  my  profession, 
in  all  the  history  of  Massachusetts  criminal  cases  I  do 
not  recall  the  equal  of  this  for  sheer  effrontery  or  dar- 
ing, and  its  conception  places  this  man  among  the  most 
dangerous  criminals  with  whom  the  State  has  to  deal 
...  In  view  of  the  facts  as  disclosed  and  established, 
in  the  name  of  Justice  itself  I  ask  a  verdict  of  'Not 
Guilty*  for  the  prisoner." 

To  this  day  those  who  were  present  in  the  court- 
room at  that  moment  like  nothing  better  than  to  re- 
count the  scene  to  those  less  fortunate.  The  prompt 
verdict  of  acquittal  by  the  jury;  the  shouts  as  Richard 
was  released;  the  ugly  threats  against  Treadway  as  he 
was  taken  into  custody ;  the  nonchalance  of  his  bearing 
and  his  single  comment,  "I  have  played  it  badly."  They 
would  tell  you  of  the  dramatic  moment  when  a  working- 
girl  from  the  plant  pushed  her  way  through  the  crowd 
to  the  place  where  Richard  was  standing,  threw  her 
arms  about  his  neck  and  kissed  him  brazenly  upon  the 
lips.  They  would  tell  you  much  more  in  detail  of  what 
happened,  and  perhaps  some  things  which  had  been 
unintentionally  added  to  make  a  good  story  better; 
but  these  form  an  aftermath  in  the  case  of  Common- 

[262] 


THE    BALANCE 


wealth  v.  Richard  Norton,  and  as  such  require  no  record 
here. 

II 

Lola  was  making  her  way  through  the  crowd  in  the 
court-room  to  greet  Richard  when  she  saw  Olga  ex- 
press her  joy  over  the  outcome.  A  twinge  of  pain 
passed  through  her  heart,  and  she  instinctively  turned 
back.  Then  she  rebuked  herself,  and  resumed  her  strug- 
gle to  crowd  past  the  surging  groups.  How  ridiculous 
to  feel  hurt !  It  was  Olga  who  did  it,  not  Richard,  and 
her  action  was  the  uncontrolled  expression  of  a  wild 
spirit.  If  Dick  had  checked  her,  it  would  have  shown 
scant  gratitude  for  the  girl's  devoted  care  during  his 
illness.  Lola's  strength  rested  on  the  philosophy  taught 
her  by  her  war  experiences,  and  her  announced  creed 
that  essentials  were  all  that  counted;  her  weakness 
asked  if  Olga's  kiss  was  really  a  non-essential.  The 
answer  depended  upon  what  preceded  it  and  what  fol- 
lowed. Did  Olga  understand  that  Richard  had  no 
thought  of  marrying  her?  These  and  a  hundred  other 
questions  pursued  one  another  through  her  mind  during 
that  moment  of  hesitation,  proving  perhaps  that  phil- 
osophy is  sometimes  illusive  when  one  tries  to  rest 
upon  it  his  own  human  problems. 

At  last  she  stood  before  Richard,  and  he  eagerly 
seized  the  hand  she  extended  to  him. 

"My  confidence  was  not  so  foolish  as  some  of  them 
thought!"  he  cried.  "It  all  seems  a  terrible  dream. 
To  think  that  Treadway  .  .  .  the  man  he  trusted  most 

[263] 


THE    BALANCE 


.  .  .  should  have  killed  him!  Poor  old  dad!  There 
must  be  some  way  I  can  make  it  up  to  him." 

"You'll  come  home  with  us,  Dick?"  she  asked. 

"Stay  at  our  house  until  you  have  time  to  readjust 
yourself,"  added  Mrs.  Stewart,  who  had  just  joined 
them. 

"We  can't  take  'no'  for  an  answer,  Dick,"  Lola's 
father  insisted.  "When  you  are  equal  to  it,  you  and 
I  have  some  important  problems  to  discuss  about  the 
business.     Make  our  home  yours  for  the  present." 

"I'd  like  nothing  better,"  Richard  declared,  "if  you'll 
let  me  come  to  you  later  in  the  day  .  .  .  There  is 
something  I  must  do  first." 

The  Stewarts  respected  his  desire  and  left  him. 

Ill 

As  soon  as  he  could  separate  himself  from  his  friends 
and  the  curious-minded,  Richard  set  out  for  the  village 
cemetery.  The  freedom  after  the  weeks  of  confinement 
almost  intoxicated  him,  and  he  drew  in  great  breaths 
of  the  clear,  cold  air  as  he  strode  along.  The  road 
which  led  off  the  main  street  to  the  little  settlement 
of  the  dead  was  seldom  traveled  except  by  the  silent 
processions  which  wound  their  way  up  the  hill  to  per- 
form the  last  ceremony  over  the  mortal  remains  of 
departed  Norcrossians,  and  Richard  met  no  one  to  di- 
vert his  mind  from  its  purpose.  He  had  not  been  there 
since  his  mother's  funeral  ten  years  before.  Now  he 
wondered  that  during  all  this  time  he  had  not  visited 
her  grave,  there  to  find  the  comfort  which  had  been 
denied  him  at  home. 

[264] 


THE    BALANCE 


The  freshly-made  mound  beside  his  mother's  showed 
Richard  where  the  body  of  his  father  had  been  laid  at 
rest.  An  imposing  pillar  had  just  been  placed  in  posi- 
tion. Treadway  had  seen  to  that.  As  Richard  stood 
beside  the  grave  he  felt  a  momentary  reaction,  and 
leaned  against  the  stone  for  support.  Then,  realizing 
that  this  was  Treadway's  gift,  he  stood  upright  and 
moved  a  step  away.  But  these  were  trivial  incidents. 
Here  he  was,  close  to  the  mortal  relics  of  that  powerful 
personality  which  had  dominated  his  life.  The  flashing 
eyes  were  dulled,  the  imperious  voice  stilled,  yet  Richard 
felt  his  father  very  near  him.  Could  it  be  that  with 
the  supreme  understanding  which  comes  in  the  beyond, 
the  old  man  was  now  in  closer  sympathy  with  his  son? 
Richard  asked  himself  why  this  should  not  be.  With 
human  prejudices  removed,  with  the  power  to  see  things 
with  an  all-penetrating  eye,  it  would  depend  wholly 
upon  whether  the  plan  upon  which  Richard  was  re- 
solved was  right.  If  so,  his  father  must  understand 
it  now,  and,  understanding,  must  wish  him  to  accom- 
plish what  he  had  undertaken. 

"If  you  believe  in  me  now,"  he  said  aloud,  "give  me 
of  your  strength  .  .  .  Let  it  be  our  work,  not  mine 
alone  .  .  .  Guide  me  and  help  me  to  do  my  part." 

Mentally  refreshed,  Richard  retraced  his  steps.  At- 
tracted by  another  recent  grave,  he  stooped  to  read  the 
inscription  on  the  simple  headstone. 

"Jack  Munsey !"  he  exclaimed. 

His  lips  tightened  as  his  mind  centered  on  what  that 
grave  represented,  and  unconsciously  he  spoke  aloud 
words  in  which  was  concentrated  a  grim  determination : 

[265] 


THE    BALANCE 


"This  .  .  .  must  .  .  .  never  .  .  .  happen  .  .  .  again." 
At  the  Norton  home  Hannah  threw  herself  unre- 
servedly into  his  strong  arms,  expressing  her  joy  in  a 
paroxysm  of  tears.  Finally  freeing  himself  from  her 
embraces,  he  passed  from  one  room  to  another:  the 
chamber  in  which  he  had  spent  so  many  sleepless  nights 
after  painful  evenings  with  his  father ;  the  dining-room, 
where  he  had  eaten  so  many  silent  meals,  his  father 
buried  in  his  newspaper;  the  library,  which  was  their 
joint  living-room.  He  mechanically  pulled  open  one 
of  the  drawers  of  the  great  mahogany  desk,  so  insepar- 
ably associated  with  his  father's  work.  A  legal-look- 
ing document  lay  before  him.  It  was  dated  in  New 
York  City,  during  a  recent  absence  from  home,  written 
and  signed  in  James  Norton's  familiar  hand,  and  duly 
attested  by  witnesses  whose  names  were  unfamiliar  to 
Richard.    He  picked  it  up  and  read : 

"Convinced  by  mature  judgment  that  a  codicU  re- 
cently executed  while  unduly  affected  by  certain  cir- 
cumstances will  work  injustice  to  my  only  son,  Richard 
Norton,  who,  in  spite  of  our  many  differences  of  opinion, 
is  very  dear  to  me,  I  hereby  revoke  said  codicil,  and 
declare  that  my  will,  previously  executed  and  now  in  the 
hands  of  my  executors,  expresses  my  final  wishes  as  to 
the  disposition  of  my  property. 

"This  instrument  is  executed  m  case  my  death  should 
occur,  through  accident  or  otherwise,  before  I  can 
destroy  the  aforementioned  codicil.  In  this  unexpected 
event  I  ask  my  son  to  believe  that  while  my  opposi- 
tion to  his  reactionary  ideas  is  sincere,  my  affection 

[266] 


THE    BALANCE 


for  him  is  such  that  I  place  no  restrictions  upon  my 
bequest." 

Richard's  heart  bounded!  His  thought  was  not  of 
the  restoration  of  his  property,  but  that  beneath  the 
austere  exterior  was  an  overwhelming  love.  The  old 
man's  opposition  was  not  antagonism  to  his  son's  ideas 
so  much  as  an  unwillingness  or  inability  to  relinquish 
the  principles  which  forty  years  of  habit  had  estab- 
lished ! 

It  was  a  day  of  experiences.  At  length  he  rose,  and 
passed  his  hand  wearily  over  his  forehead,  but  as  he 
stepped  out  onto  the  veranda  there  was  a  smile  of  con- 
tentment upon  his  face, 

IV 

As  he  stood  there,  the  last  of  the  Nortons,  he  did 
not  feel  himself  to  be  alone.  The  reflected  radiance  of 
the  setting  sun  rested  upon  his  upturned  face,  but 
beyond  that  was  a  light  which  comes  only  from  within. 

"Father !"  he  cried  at  length.  "That  understanding 
which  was  denied  in  life  has  come  to  us  now.  You  and 
I  are  at  peace !" 


[267] 


CHAPTER     XXVIII 


OLGA  was  conscience-stricken  when  she  recalled 
how  public  had  been  the  display  of  her  emotion 
in  the  court-room,  yet  she  would  have  burst 
into  a  tantrum  if  any  one  other  than  herself  had  ven- 
tured to  criticize.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  her  ebulition 
was  due  to  the  reaction  she  had  experienced  from  the 
sudden  and  unexpected  twist  the  case  took.  That  a 
trial  should  be  required  at  all  was  beyond  her  compre- 
hension, for  one  only  had  to  ask  Richard,  as  she  had 
done,  to  learn  from  him  of  his  entire  innocence !  Start- 
ing with  this  hypothesis,  she  had  thought  of  the  whole 
affair  as  a  mere  formality,  but  she  became  more  im- 
pressed with  its  seriousness  as  the  day  progressed. 
Treadway  became  the  object  of  her  deadliest  hatred 
when  he  testified  against  Richard.  Olga  knew  that  he 
was  lying,  but  to  her  surprise  and  consternation  the 
spectators  around  her  accepted  his  statement  as  abso- 
lute truth!  For  the  first  time  she  realized  that  the 
danger  earlier  suggested  by  Dr.  Thurber's  chance  ref- 
erence to  the  electric  chair  was  real,  and  apprehension 
gripped  her  heart.  Then,  when  the  lawyer  fastened 
the  crime  so  completely  on  Treadway,  Olga's  joy  knew 
no  bounds.     She  had  not  believed  that  such  things  ever 

[268] 


THE    BALANCE 


happened  except  in  the  movies !  She  wriggled  her  way 
to  where  Richard  was  standing,  and  once  there  it  would 
have  required  more  than  human  force  to  prevent  her 
from  expressing  her  emotion  in  the  one  way  that  Nature 
prompted. 

After  the  first  excitement,  she  realized  how  her  dem- 
onstration would  appear  to  others,  and  she  was  deeply 
chagrined.  Richard  had  not  chided  her,  but  she  feared 
lest  she  had  made  him  angry.  lie  had  always  been  so 
gentle  with  her,  even  when  he  scolded  her,  but  she  re- 
membered the  look  in  his  face  when  Sterling  told  him  of 
the  strikers'  raid  upon  the  office!  As  other  people 
crowded  around  her  hero,  the  girl  slipped  away  un- 
noticed, and  now,  thoroughly  miserable,  awaited  Rich- 
ard's return  to  the  flat  where  she  had  nursed  him  back 
to  life. 

The  waiting  was  trying,  for  the  moments  were  filled 
with  doubts.  The  dead  silence  of  that  room  contained 
ghosts  of  hours  which  to  her  had  been  the  happiest  in 
her  life;  but  now  they  seemed  so  long  ago  that  she 
almost  questioned  their  reality.  As*  she  waited,  her 
mind  centered  on  the  conversation  with  Richard  in  the 
jail,  the  effect  of  which  still  hung  over  her  oppressively, 
even  though  she  had  been  unable  to  analyze  her  vague 
forebodings.  Now  the  sentences  came  back  to  her  in 
fragments,  and  they  troubled  her.  She  was  not  wise 
enough  nor  sufficiently* experienced  to  explain  her  fears, 
but  in  her  heart  she  felt  the  sophistry  of  Richard's 
arguments.  All  that  was  clear  to  her  was  that  she  had 
been  necessary  to  him  while  he  was  ill  and  weak,  but 
now  he  needed  her  no  longer. 

[269] 


THE    BALANCE 


II 

The  hours  of  the  afternoon  crept  by,  and  Richard 
did  not  come ;  but  at  last  Olga's  vigil  was  rewarded  by 
the  sound  of  feet  upon  the  stairs.  She  started  joyfully 
to  the  door,  but  before  she  reached  it  drew  back  in  dis- 
appointment. That  intermittent  clump  upon  the 
treads  was  not  made  by  Richard's  footsteps,  and  could 
only  announce  the  approach  of  Barry  O'Carolan 
and  his  wooden  leg.  Her  lip  quivered,  but  the  thought 
that  the  visitor  might  perhaps  tell  her  of  Richard 
caused  her  to  open  the  door  and  welcome  him. 

"Hello,  Olga,"  he  greeted  her  on  the  top  landing; 
"where's  the  Capt'n?" 

"That  is  what  I  am  asking  you." 

"Hasn't  he  been  back  here?" 

Olga  shook  her  head. 

"I  thought  he'd  be  sure  to  come  here,"  Barry  con- 
tinued. "I  want  to  tell  him  what  it  means  to  us  fellers 
to  have  him  cleared  .  .  .  Can  I  wait  a  few  minutes  to 
see  if  he'll  come?" 

"Sure." 

Olga  led  the  way  into  the  room  and  motioned  Barry 
to  a  chair  by  way  of  belated  hospitality. 

"Why  don't  you  sit  down?"  she  demanded  abruptly 
after  a  moment  of  awkward  standing. 

"Ladies  first!" 

Barry  bowed  with  as  much  ceremony  as  his  wooden 
leg  would  permit. 

"My  God!"  Olga  exclaimed  in  frank  astonishment. 
"That  Stewart  lady  must  have  been  teaching  you  man- 

[  270  ] 


THE    BALANCE 


ners!  .  »  But  say,  Barry,  there  is  something  nice  in 
being  polite  to  people,  isn't  there?" 

Her  caller  had  been  grinning  sheepishly  over  the 
attention  his  courtesy  attracted,  but  the  girl's  remark 
as  they  seated  themselves  put  him  at  his  ease. 

"At  first  it  does  look  kind  of  foolish,  don't  it?"  he 
replied  .  .:  .  "all  this  bowin'  and  scrapin',  and  takin' 
off  your  hat,  and  treatin'  women  like  they  were  better 
than  men ;  but  after  you  get  used  to  it,  it  sort  of  makes 
you  feel  good  to  do  it." 

"You  are  a  swell  ladies'  man,  Barry,  for  a  lame  feller. 
Did  you  have  to  practice  much?" 

"Shucks,  no !"  he  boasted,  trying  to  act  with  becom- 
ing modesty;  "it  comes  natural  when  you  see  it  goin' 
on  'round  you  all  the  time." 

"There  is  something  in  that,"  Olga  admitted  after  a 
moment's  meditation.  "It  is  the  same  way  with  me.  I 
can't  say  'hell'  and  'damn'  any  more  since  I  have  been 
with  Richard  without  feeling  like  .  .  .  There !  I  nearly 
said  it  then!" 

"You  needn't  stop  on  my  account,"  Barry  assured 
her  magnanimously.  "I'm  not  above  employin'  a  bit 
of  profanity  myself  at  times,  but  I've  quit  wastin'  it  on 
unimportant  occasions." 

"Barry,"  the  girl  declared  in  admiration,  "you  will 
be  a  gentleman  yet  if  you  keep  on.  When  I  first  knew 
you  I  didn't  think  you  amounted  to  anything,  with  your 
working  around  in  the  garden,  and  your  dippy  ideas 
about  flowers,  and  being  so  gentle  and  quiet.  I  used 
to  think  a  man  to  be  worth  anything  had  to  talk  loud, 
and  swing  his  arms,  and  all  that.    But  look  at  Richard ! 

[271] 


THE    BALANCE 


There  is  a  man  for  you!  He  is  quiet  to  look  at,  but 
my  God!  when  he  gets  moving!  Being  with  him  has 
taught  me  a  lot.  And  every  now  and  then  I  hear 
of  some  things  you  have  done  that  I  wouldn't  have 
thought  you  had  the  guts  to  do;  but  it's  that  quiet 
'strength  of  conviction'  Richard  talks  about,  and  I 
suppose  you  have  learned  it  from  the  Stewart  lady, 
just  as  I  did  from  Richard  .  .  ." 

"Say,"  interrupted  Barry,  "aren't  you  gettin'  kind 
of  fresh  callin'  the  Capt'n  by  his  first  name?" 

"Who  has  a  better  right?"  Olga  demanded,  placed 
instantly  on  the  defensive. 

"Well,"  he  answered,  looking  at  her  deliberately, 
"there's  Miss  Lola  for  one,  .  .  she's  got  a  better  right." 

"Did  she  ever  nurse  him  day  and  night  and  keep  him 
from  going  off  the  hooks  altogether?  Did  she  ever 
hold  his  head  in  her  arms  while  he  was  raving  mad,  and 
calm  him  down  until  he  slept  like  a  baby?  Didn't  he 
tell  you  himself,  the  last  time  you  were  here,  Barry 
O'Carolan,  that  a  wife  could  not  have  done  more  for 
him?" 

"Yes ;  I  heard  him  say  that,  Olga ;  but  you  haven't 
got  any  idea  that  you  and  the  Capt'n  are  goin'  to  be 
married  ever,  have  you?" 

"Why  not?" 

The  girl's  militant  attitude  returned  and  her  eyes 
snapped. 

"I  did  not  think  so,  Barry  until  he  lost  his  money. 
While  he  was  a  rich  man's  son,  of  course  I  did  not  think 
of  it ;  but  now,  when  he  has  become  poor  like  me,  and 
just  one  of  us,  I  don't  see  why  he  could  not  marry  me. 

[272] 


THE    BALANCE 


But  now  you  say  he  will  never  do  it,  and  I  don't  sup- 
pose there  is  any  chance  for  me.  Oh,  Barry,"  .  .  the 
woman  in  Olga  gained  the  upper  hand,  and  she  burst 
into  tears  ...  "I  never  thought  I  would  love  any  man, 
but  I  have  gone  and  done  it,  and  until  you  came  in  here 
and  told  me  he  would  never  marry  me,  I  really  believed 
I  had  a  chance." 

Barry  was  not  experienced  in  soothing  the  sorrows 
of  a  weeping  woman,  but  in  following  his  natural  in- 
stinct he  made  no  mistakes.  With  his  arm  about  the 
girl,  he  let  her  sob  on  his  capacious  shoulder,  patting 
her  sympathetically  and  encouraging  her  to  confide  her 
troubles. 

"It's  all  right,  Olga,"  he  assured  her  as  her  paroxysm 
subsided;  "we  all  go  through  that  at  least  once  in  our 
lives,  and  it  does  us  good.  Of  course,  it's  natural  you 
should  love  the  Capt'n  .  .  >.  any  girl  would  do  that 
.  .  .  but  you  must  get  it  right  out  of  your  head  that 
there's  any  chance  of  your  marryin'  him,  .  .  and  his 
havin'  money  or  not  don't  enter  into  it." 

"It  is  all  very  fine  for  you  to  talk  so  wise,  Barry 
O'Carolan,  but  what  do  you  know  about  such  things 
anyhow?" 

Olga  was  surprised  by  the  expression  on  his  face. 

"I  guess  I  have  said  something,"  she  added  sym- 
pathetically ...  "I  didn't  mean  to  hurt  you,  Barry." 

"I  do  know  about  such  things,  Olga,"  he  replied 
soberly ;  "and  because  I  know  I  have  a  right  to  tell  you." 

She  looked  at  him  in  silence  until  a  quick  understand- 
ing came  to  her. 

[273] 


THE    BALANCE 


"You  don't  mean  »  .  ." 

Barry  bowed  his  head  as  he  saw  that  she  had  guessed 
his  secret. 

"You  ...  in  love  with  the  Stewart  lady !" 

Olga  was  breathless  with  surprise. 

"And  she  turned  you  down?" 

It  was  Barry's  voice  which  choked  now,  but  he  was 
disgusted  with  the  girl's  lack  of  comprehension. 

"She  hasn't  any  idea  that  I  care  that  way  for  her, 
and  she  never  will  know.  You're  the  only  one  I've  ever 
told,  and  if  you  give  me  away,  I'll  .  .  »  but  you 
wouldn't  do  that,  Olga,  for  you  know  I  told  you  just 
to  make  it  easier  for  you.  You  and  I  are  in  the  same 
boat.  You  can  comfort  the  Capt'n  all  you  like,  and  I 
can  watch  over  Miss  Lola,  and  they  can  be  kind  and 
helpful  to  us,  but  after  you've  said  that  you've  said 
everythin'.  Those  people  aren't  in  our  lives,  Olga,  ex- 
cept the  way  the  sun  or  moon  is  in  our  lives,  and  the 
more  we  get  attached  to  'em,  the  further  away  they 
really  are." 

Olga  was  very  sober.  What  Barry  had  said  struck 
her  hard,  for  his  words  strengthened  waverings  in  her 
own  mind  which  until  then  had  refused  to  crystallize. 
The  surprising  disclosure  Barry  had  made  of  his  own 
hopeless  romance  gave  to  his  sympathy  *a  real  signifi- 
cance, and  kept  his  advice,  bitter  as  it  was,  from  seem- 
ing impertinent. 

"Then  you  think  Richard  will  give  me  up,"  the  girl 
said  reluctantly.  "He  told  me  he  was  not  going  to 
marry  the  Stewart  lady." 

"He  was  kiddin'  you,"  Barry  retorted  incredulously. 
[274] 


THE    BALANCE 


"Where  is  he  now?  You  thought  he'd  come  right  here, 
and  so  did  I,  but  he  hasn't ;  and  if  he  isn't  here  there's 
only  one  other  place  he  would  go,  and  that's  to  Miss 
Lola." 

Barry  looked  suggestively  at  the  telephone  Richard 
kept  installed  in  the  flat,  and  Olga  understood  what 
was  in  his  mind. 

"Do  it,"  she  exclaimed. 

"Has  Mr.  Richard  arrived  yet?"  he  inquired  of  the 
maid,  and  on  hearing  the  reply  hung  up  the  receiver. 

"Half  an  hour  ago,"  he  announced,  looking  firmly 
at  Olga  .  .  .  "There  isn't  any  use  fightin'  against  the 
laws  of  Nature,"  he  declared;  "those  people  aren't  in 
our  lives." 

"I  will  never  give  him  up!"  the  girl  cried  savagely. 
"He  is  not  going  to  marry  any  one,  but  he  means  more 
to  me  than  to  any  one  else." 

"Don't  talk  foolish,  Olga,"  Barry  checked  her.  "The 
Capt'n's  goin'  to  be  the  head  of  the  great  Norton  Man- 
ufacturin'  Company,  isn't  he?  When  he  marries,  he'll 
take  his  wife  into  that  big  house  up  on  the  Hill.  Can 
you  see  yourself  in  that  house,  Olga?  If  he  said  he 
wasn't  goin'  to  marry  Miss  Lola,  he  only  meant  he 
wasn't  goin'  to  do  it  now ;  but  when  the  time  comes,  it 
won't  be  one  of  the  girls  from  his  factory  he'll  take 
into  that  house  as  his  wife.  I  don't  want  to  hurt  you, 
Olga,  .  .  and  I  know  how  it  does  hurt,  .  .  but  you've 
got  to  see  things  the  way  they  really  are." 

"I  will  not !  I  will  not !"  she  cried  out  like  a  spunky 
child.  "I  don't  want  to  live  in  that  house;  I  would 
rather  live  right  here,  with  him." 

[275] 


THE    BALANCE 


"And  the  Capt'n  with  a  wife  besides,  livin'  in  the  big 
house?" 

"Why  not?"  Olga  declared  defiantly.  "We  have 
been  here  in  this  flat  together,  haven't  we?  Some  of  the 
best  folks  in  the  Bible  had  more  than  one  wife,  and  I 
don't  know  as  we  are  so  much  better  than  they  were." 

Barry  looked  at  her  in  astonishment. 

"You  don't  mean  that,  Olga,  .  .  I  know  you  don't. 
How  about  the  wife  in  the  big  house?" 

"That  is  her  look-out.  I  would  take  good  care  to 
keep  him  more  fond  of  me  than  he  was  of  her." 

Barry  looked  at  her  steadily. 

"I've  just  told  you  what  I  think  of  Miss  Lola,"  Ke 
said  with  more  feeling  than  he  had  allowed  himself 
to  show.  "After  all  she's  done  for  us  fellers  I  sure 
would  hate  to  have  anythin'  you  do  keep  her  from  bein' 
happy  herself.  She  and  the  Capt'n  are  promised  to 
each  other,  aren't  they?  You're  not  a  thief,  are  you 
Olga,  .  .  tryin'  to  steal  somethin'  you  know  belongs 
to  some  one  else?" 

"Then  why  does  he  kiss  me  and  hold  me  in  his  arms?" 
she  demanded  rebelliously. 

Olga's  cry  confirmed  Barry's  confidence  in  them  both. 
If  the  girl's  claim  had  been  as  strong  as  her  words  im- 
plied, she  would  have  disclosed  it  then.  His  resentment 
vanished,  and  in  its  place  came  a  tenderness  toward 
his  companion,  for  her  distress  was  akin  to  his  own. 
Hesitatingly  he  took  Olga's  hand  in  his  and  smiled 
into  her  troubled  face. 

"That's  the  Capt'n's  way  of  showin'  you  he  likes 
you,"  he  explained,  "but  he  don't  mean  anythin'  by  it 

[276] 


THE    BALANCE 


except  just  that  .  .  .  Because  the  good  Lord  has  given 
the  Capt'n  the  most  wonderful  flower  in  the  world  to 
wear  always  in  his  heart  isn't  any  reason  why  Mr.  Rich- 
ard shouldn't  enjoy  lookin'  at  another  blossom,  when 
it's  as  pretty  as  you  are,  Olga.  The  Capt'n  knows  he 
could  never  pick  it,  and  he's  been  mighty  careful  not 
to  bruise  its  petals,  hasn't  he,  Olga?" 

"Oh,  Barry!     You  are  so  unkind  to  me!" 

"No,  I'm  not.     You'll  see  it  the  way  it  is  after  I 

go  ..." 

Barry  lifted  himself  onto  his  feet,  and  with  a  hand 
on  each  of  Olga's  shoulders  looked  straight  into  her 
eyes. 

"Don't  ever  forget  this,  Olga  .  .  .  those  people 
aren't  in  our  lives." 


[277] 


CHAPTER     XXIX 


BARRY'S  conversation  with  Olga  left  her  more 
apprehensive  than  ever.  Everything  the  girl 
had  secured  since  she  could  remember  had  been 
by  fighting  for  it,  so  the  present  necessity  for  struggle, 
unhappy  as  it  made  her,  did  not  seem  unnatural.  For 
a  time  circumstances  appeared  to  be  conspiring  in  her 
favor  .  .  .  Richard's  illness  gave  her  an  opportunity 
for  companionship  which  could  never  have  come  other- 
wise; the  intimacy  which  developed  from  their  associa- 
tion showed  her  a  side  of  his  character  which  was  so 
thoroughly  democratic  that  she  felt  herself  on  a  social 
equality  with  him;  the  loss  of  his  fortune  would  force 
him  in  reality  to  become  a  working  man.  He  treated 
her  with  a  courtesy  and  consideration  which  no  one  else 
had  ever  shown  her,  and  she  knew  he  liked  her.  The  oc- 
casional kiss  no  longer  made  her  live  in  her  friend's 
world,  but  brought  Richard  into  hers.  The  caresses 
seeped  into  her  blood  until  they  possessed  a  significance 
far  beyond  the  measure  of  friendship  for  which  they  had 
stood  at  first.  To  Olga,  it  was  a  certainty  that  Rich- 
ard's sweetheart  who  lived  in  the  wonderful  house  would 
never  marry  a  man  who  worked  .  .  .  and  except  for 
her  the  girl  feared  no  rival. 

[278] 


THE    BALANCE 


The  restoration  of  Richard's  inheritance,  the  news  of 
which  spread  over  Norcross  like  wild-fire,  placed  him 
again  in  a  world  in  which  she  had  no  part.  This  she 
realized  fully,  but  after  the  delirious  happiness  of  her 
day-dream  she  was  slow  to  acknowledge  an  unpleasant 
fact.  Barry's  flat  statement  that  she  must  abandon  all 
thought  of  having  her  dream  come  true  was  so  close 
to  her  unexpressed  conviction  that  it  hurt  her,  and 
when  she  was  hurt  she  knew  no  other  reaction  than 
to  fight. 

II 

It  was  in  this  mood  that  Richard  found  her  in  the 
late  afternoon  of  the  day  following  his  acquittal,  when 
he  returned  to  the  flat  to  gather  together  his  belongings. 
Her  greeting  lacked  the  usual  abandon,  her  face  ex- 
pressed an  unspoken  reproach.  Richard  looked  at  her 
in  surprise. 

"Aren't  you  glad  to  see  me,  Olga  ?"  he  asked. 

"I  am  not  sure,"  she  replied  guardedly.  "I  think  you 
have  forgotten  me." 

"Nonsense !"  he  cried.  "What  has  happened  to  make 
my  little  nurse  unhappy  ?" 

"Why  have  you  not  come  here  sooner?" 

"You  know  how  many  things  I've  had  to  do  since  I 
have  been  free,"  he  explained. 

"I  never  had  too  many  things  to  do  when  you  needed 
me." 

"Come,"  Richard  said,  putting  out  his  arm  to  draw 
her  to  him;  "let  me  make  you  understand." 

To  his  surprise,  Olga  refused  to  respond  as  usual 
[279] 


THE    BALANCE 


to  his  advances.     She  drew  back  and  held  herself  with 
a  new  dignity. 

"Because  I  showed  you  that  I  loved  you,  while  the 
Stewart  lady  was  making  up  her  mind,  I  made  myself 
so  cheap  that  now  you  think  nothing  of  me.  You  kiss 
me,  you  hold  me  in  your  arms,  you  say  pleasant  things 
to  me,  and  you  ...  go  to  her.  You  can  play  with 
me  no  longer,  Mr.  Richard  Norton.  I  can  love  better 
than  the  Stewart  lady,  and  I  can  hate  better  too.  Per- 
haps you  care  no  more  for  my  hate  than  you  care  for 
my  love!" 

Richard  was  amazed  at  the  girl's  vehemence.  Her 
words  hurt  him  less  than  the  wounded  expression  in 
her  face.  The  tears  glistening  in  her  eyes  and  the  quiver 
in  her  lips  belied  her  repellent  attitude,  and  her  hymn 
of  hate  was  sung  to  music  vibrant  with  affection.  Noth- 
ing could  have  disclosed  with  such  final  conviction  the 
fact  that  this  wild  daughter  of  Nature  had  given  her 
heart  to  him  with  absolute  abandon,  and  in  spite  of  his 
forewarning  from  Lola  and  from  that  day  at  the  jail 
this  knowledge  came  as  a  blow.  Even  when  Olga  pre- 
viously mentioned  marriage,  he  could  not  take  it  seri- 
ously. Their  stations  in  life  were  so  far  separated 
that  even  the  possibility  had  never  occurred  to  him. 
He  had  made  himself  believe  that  she  accepted  what 
he  said  to  her.  Now  it  was  only  too  clear  that  the 
affection  he  had  unwittingly  awakened  in  this  savage 
little  breast  was  real,  and  demanded  recognition.  He 
had  already  wounded  this  devoted  comrade  of  his  by  his 
belated  understanding.     Now  he  became   aware   that 

[280] 


THE    BALANCE 


the  wound  must  be  made  deeper  before  she  could  share 
the  understanding  with  him. 

It  was  a  sobered  Richard  who  drew  the  chairs  closer 
together,  and  motioned  her  to  sit  down.  With  a  pro- 
test in  every  movement  she  seated  herself. 

"I  have  been  very  much  at  fault,  Olga,"  he  said 
quietly.  "I  can't  blame  myself  enough.  When  you 
told  me  your  pretty  conceit  .  .  .  that  a  kiss  was  wine 
sipped  by  two  friends  ...  I  accepted  it,  and  that  was 
a  cowardly  thing  to  do." 

"That  was  long  ago.  I  told  you  that  much  had  hap- 
pened since." 

"I  know  ...  I  have  no  excuse  for  not  realizing 
sooner  that  no  matter  what  else  we  may  call  a  kiss, 
it  is  a  spark  which  is  only  too  certain  to  start  a  con- 
flagration in  one  heart  or  the  other  which  may  leave 
desolation  in  its  wake.  To  me  our  kisses  have  always 
been  the  wine  which  you  and  I  have  sipped  in  friend- 
ship and  in  friendship  only.  I  felt  sure  of  myself.  I 
thought  I  was  sure  of  you,  but  I  should  have  known 
that  it  was  too  much  to  expect.  It  was  a  sweet  moment, 
Olga,  when  I  first  held  your  fiery  little  body  in  my  arms, 
but  I  knew  then  as  I  know  now  that  I  should  never  have 
yielded  to  the  temptation.  We  have  been  happy  to- 
gether, and  it  hurts  me  to  see  you  unhappy  now  .  .  . 
Forgive  me,  Olga." 

"I  can  forgive  you,  but  that  does  not  give  you  back 
to  me,"  she  cried.  "You  have  made  me  love  you,  and 
now  you  tell  me  not  to  do  so  any  more.  It  is  an  easy 
thing  to  say,  but  I  am  not  strong  enough  to  do  it.  You 
have  brought  to  life  something  in  me  which  I  did  not 

[281] 


THE    BALANCE 


know  I  had.     I  may  try  to  kill  it,  but  if  I  succeed  it 
will  kill  me,  too,  it  is  so  great  a  part  of  me." 

"What  can  I  do?"  Richard  demanded,  but  the  ques- 
tion was  to  himself  rather  than  to  Olga.  "If  I  was  go- 
ing to  marry  Lola  I  might  understand  your  feeling  as 
you  do ;  as  it  is,  I  shall  not  marry  any  one  ...  I  can- 
not even  if  I  would." 

"Oh,  that  talk  about  a  wife  interfering  with  your 
work!  You  only  think  it  will!  Every  great  man  who 
ever  did  a  great  work  was  married  .  .  .  and  it  was 
usually  the  wife  who  made  him  great  while  he  took  all 
the  glory !" 

"You  may  be  right,  Olga,  but  I  have  to  act  as  it 
seems  wise  to  me  .  .  .  Lola  understands  .  .  ." 

"But  you  see  I  do  not,  and  that  makes  it  different. 
She  understands  because  she  is  not  sure  yet  that  she 
loves  you  ...  I  do  not  understand  because  I  know 
that  I  do  love  you." 

"I  have  a  great  work  ahead  of  me,"  Richard  repeated 
helplessly.  "If  I  am  to  make  a  success  of  it,  I  must 
give  to  it  my  undivided  thought  and  effort." 

"You  will  not  be  able  to  do  that  anyway,  for  you 
cannot  help  thinking  of  me  even  if  we  are  not  together." 

"Let  the  thoughts  be  happy  ones,  Olga!  My  life 
must  be  with  men  .  .  .  with  employers  who  fail  to  ap- 
preciate their  obligations,  with  workmen  who  fail  to 
see  their  opportunities.  Can't  you  understand  there 
is  no  place  for  a  woman  in  my  life  ?" 

"But  I  am  a  working-woman,"  she  insisted  tena- 
ciously, "and  I  could  help  you.  I  can  see  that  the  Stew- 
art lady  has  no  place  in  your  life,  but  I  can  also  see 

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that  I  have.  I  do  not  care  to  live  in  the  big  house  on 
the  Hill.  I  know  I  could  never  learn  to  carry  myself 
like  the  Stewart  lady.  But  I  know  the  working-men  as 
well  as  you.  I  have  helped  you  with  them  before,  and 
I  can  help  you  with  them  now." 

Richard  saw  clearly  the  hopelessness  of  argument. 
Olga  sensed  it,  and  in  her  expectant  face  he  read  a  hope- 
fulness of  victory.  To  say  what  would  be  necessary  to 
make  her  fully  understand  would  be  brutal,  and  she 
had  already  suffered  much.  Comprehension  would  come 
slowly,  and  he  must  let  time  be  his  ally. 

"If  you  really  want  to  help,"  he  said  at  length,  "you 
must  let  me  leave  it  there  for  the  present  ...  I  came 
today  to  tell  you  that  I  want  you  to  take  this  flat  for 
your  own,  and  to  keep  it  for  your  own  just  as  long  as 
you  like." 

"Won't  you  be  coming  as  you  always  have?" 

"No,  not  as  before,  Olga ;  for  I  must  look  after  my 
father's  property,  and  must  live  in  the  big  house.  But 
I  shall  see  you  often,  and  we  will  still  be  comrades. 
You  must  not  be  unhappy,  for  that  would  make  it  hard 
for  me  to  do  my  work.  Why  not  let  the  future  take 
care  of  itself?  Surely  we  can  plan  together  so  that 
each  may  be  happy  ...  if  not  in  the  way  you  think 
now,  then  in  some  other  way." 

"There  is  no  other  way,"  the  girl  declared  despond- 
ently, the  confidence  disappearing  from  her  face. 

Richard  watched  her  as  she  passed  through  her  strug- 
gle. She  realized  that  she  could  gain  nothing  more  by 
pleading,  and  she  feared  lest  she  lose  what  she  still 
might  keep.    If  Richard  should  go  out  of  her  life !    The 

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THE    BALANCE 


thought  terrified  her.  He  still  liked  her.  He  admitted 
it,  and  she  knew  that  it  was  true.  He  had  taken  her  at 
her  word,  and  the  present  situation  was  of  her  making, 
not  his.  He  had  played  the  game  straight  with  her, 
and  she  had  no  right  to  find  fault.  However  deep  the 
wound,  she  must  conceal  it  now.  Gradually  the  despair 
in  her  face  gave  way  to  a  forced  smile.  Shyly,  she  ex- 
tended her  hand,  as  if  in  penitence  for  her  earlier 
outbreak. 

"I  will  try  to  make  you  happy,"  she  said  firmly. 
"That  will  be  one  way  to  prove  how  much  I  really  love 
you.  And  I  will  try  to  make  myself  everything  you 
want  me  to  be,  if  perhaps  some  time  in  the  future  you 
found  that  I  would  not  be  in  your  way  while  you  were 
doing  your  great  work.  But  Richard  .  .  »  no  matter 
what  happens,  do  not  forget  me.  If  you  cannot  love 
me,  keep  right  on  liking  me.  You  are  a  rich  man  now, 
and  I  a  working-girl  .  .  .  but  the  honest  love  of  any 
girl,  whatever  her  station,  will  not  hurt  even  a  great 
man,  will  it,  Richard?" 

"No,"  he  replied,  touched  by  her  devotion ;  "such  love 
could  be  only  an  incentive.  But  what  of  the  man's  re- 
sponsibility? Suppose  he  were  inspired  by  such  affec- 
tion, was  proud  to  acknowledge  it.  Suppose  he  would 
cut  off  his  right  hand  rather  than  wound  such  love, 
yet  knew  that  appreciation  and  gratitude  could  never 
be  a  just  return.  What  then  of  him?  Would  it  not  be 
cowardly  for  him  to  accept  from  her  more  than  he  had 
to  give?" 

"Do  not  say  it!  .  ."  she  cried,  fearful  lest  the  op- 
portunity had  been  given  for  a  final  severance.     "Until 

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I  hear  you  say  it,  I  shall  never  believe  it,  and  you  must 
not  say  it  yet !" 

"You  are  right,  Olga.  Nothing  must  interrupt  our 
friendship,  which  has  been  and  is  very  beautiful.  If  we 
try  to  force  things,  something  may  interfere.  Why  not 
leave  it  as  it  is,  and  enjoy  together  what  we  have  had 
and  what  we  still  may  have?" 

"Yes  .  .  .  yes,  we  must!"  she  cried  impulsively. 
"When  I  was  a  little  girl  and  some  one  was  going  to 
say  something  I  did  not  wish  to  hear,  I  would  put  my 
hands  over  my  ears  .  .  .  like  this.  See  ...  I  do  it 
now.  We  are  still  friends,  but  we  must  no  longer  sip 
the  wine  together.  If  my  lips  touched  yours  only  once 
more  ...  if  I  felt  my  arms  again  around  your  neck, 
I  should  never  let  you  go.  But  if  we  do  not  do  this, 
perhaps  I  shall  become  strong  again,  as  I  used  to  be, 
mistress  of  myself,  afraid  of  no  man.  You  have  made 
me  afraid,  Richard,  for  the  only  time  in  my  life,  .  . 
afraid  of  myself." 

"That  is  my  real  Olga  again !"  he  cried.  "I  am  proud 
of  you !  Be  your  own  sweet,  strong  self,  and  our  friend- 
ship will  remain  a  blessing  to  us  both.  Let  me  feel  that 
I  need  not  blame  myself  too  severely  for  not  protecting 
you  better.  Forgive  me  for  not  realizing  earlier  that 
you  were  beginning  to  care." 

"I  have  nothing  to  forgive,  Richard.  You  took  my 
words  as  I  spoke  them.  I  thought  then  that  I  meant 
them.  I  will  make  myself  mean  them  now.  You  have 
given  me  much.  You  have  protected  me,  for  if  you  had 
wished  you  could  have  done  with  me  as  you  chose. 
Instead  .   .   ." 

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"That  was  unthinkable,"  he  interrupted;  "for  we 
were  friends." 

As  he  spoke  she  gazed  at  him  with  eyes  which  could 
not  conceal  her  overpowering  love.  She  dared  not  trust 
herself  further. 

"Oh,  Richard  .  .  .  you  must  go  !"  she  cried.  "I  can- 
not stand  it  any  longer !" 

Ill 

She  listened  to  his  footsteps  retreating  down  the 
stairs,  and  then  crossed  over  to  the  window  where  she 
could  watch  him  until  he  passed  out  of  sight.  Long 
after  he  disappeared  she  stood  there,  as  the  twilight 
deepened.  At  length  she  turned  away,  and  threw  her- 
self on  her  knees  at  the  chair  where  Richard  had  been 
sitting.  Barry's  words  came  back  to  her  with  over- 
whelming force. 

"He  did  not  bruise  the  petals,"  she  cried.  "Thank 
God,  .  .  because  we  were  friends,  he  would  not  bruise 
the  petals!" 


[286] 


CHAPTER     XXX 


RICHARD  was  too  eager  to  put  into  practical 
operation  the  plans  perfected  in  the  solitude 
of  his  confinement  to  accept  much  time  for  re- 
cuperation, but  a  certain  period  for  personal  readjust- 
ment was  imperative.  Curiously  enough,  he  had  never 
thought  of  himself  as  occupying,  even  in  the  future, 
the  position  held  by  his  father.  James  Norton's  char- 
acter has  been  so  positive,  his  personality  so  dominating, 
that,  as  one  of  the  Directors  had  once  pointed  out  to 
William  Stewart,  the  question  of  his  successor  had 
never  even  been  considered.  After  the  tragedy,  the 
executive  responsibility  was  divided,  as  no  single  per- 
son combined  the  practical  knowledge  of  the  works  and 
the  personal  relations  with  the  customers.  When 
Treadway  was  accepted  as  Norton's  heir  to  the  busi- 
ness, his  position  was  obvious,  and  the  routine  of  the 
plant  seemed  to  be  settling  down  upon  this  basis. 

The  outcome  of  the  trial,  however,  necessitated  a 
complete  business  readjustment,  and  for  this  reason 
Stewart,  who  succeeded  Norton  as  Chairman  of  the 
Board,  was  anxious  to  discuss  matters  with  Richard 
at  the  earliest  opportunity.     James  Norton's  son  was 

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THE    BALANCE 


now  the  largest  stockholder  in  the  Company,  and  the 
Directors  were  waiting  to  learn  his  attitude  before  seri- 
ously considering  the  next  step.  It  must  be  admitted 
that  some  members  of  the  Board  were  considerably 
disturbed  by  the  prospect  of  a  reactionary  influence  in 
the  Company.  The  business  had  grown  and  prospered 
through  following  the  well-defined  policy  which  was  now 
threatened.  Richard's  antagonism  to  his  father's  views 
was  common  knowledge,  and  his  close  contact  with  the 
workmen  filled  these  Directors  with  vague  forebodings 
of  deepest  moment.  Stewart  alone  was  reassuring.  He 
reminded  them  that  other  concerns  had  tested  the  idea 
of  factory  representation  with  favorable  results,  and 
this  departure  from  the  previous  policy  was  the  basis 
of  Richard's  plan. 

n 

Lola  was  eager  to  be  present  when  Richard  and  her 
father  had  their  first  discussion.  She  liked  to  feel  her- 
self a  part  of  Richard's  work,  not  with  full  understand- 
ing, but  with  an  enthusiastic  sympathy  which  made  up 
for  her  lack  of  business  knowledge.  She  tried  to  be 
business-like  in  handling  the  organizations  in  which  she 
was  interested,  for  she  had  seen  many  instances  where 
zealous  war-workers,  trying  to  capitalize  the  energy 
which  made  their  earlier  efforts  successful  by  applying 
it  to  home  charities,  failed  because  they  lacked  the 
technical  training  required  to  make  their  work  prac- 
tical. Lola  realized  that  if  she  was  to  enjoy  the  grati- 
fication of  personal  expression  in  her  work,  she  must 

[288] 


THE    BALANCE 


possess  absolute  knowledge  of  its  demands,  for  the 
best  intentions  in  the  world  fail  to  excuse  disaster  which 
comes  from  the  over-confidence  of  amateurs. 

It  was  a  week  after  Richard's  release  that  the  confer- 
ence was  held  in  the  Stewart  library.  During  the 
interval  he  had  spent  many  hours  at  the  Company's 
office,  and  nearly  as  much  time  with  the  men.  It  was 
a  new  sensation  to  feel  that  the  future  policy  of  this 
great  concern  would  be  affected  by  his  actions  at  this 
critical  point  in  its  history,  and  his  responsibility  im- 
pressed him  deeply.  Years  before,  his  father  had  faced 
the  same  problem,  and  had  built  his  foundations  so 
firm  that  during  his  lifetime  they  had  withstood  every 
attack.  In  his  day,  James  Norton  had  been  considered 
a  heretic  in  some  of  the  radical  departures  he  made 
from  established  business  precedent.  Would  history 
repeat  itself?  Would  the  progressive  ideas  for  which 
Richard  now  endeavored  to  force  recognition  seem  to 
his  son  as  archaic  and  unfair  as  the  James  Norton  pol- 
icy seemed  to  him?  That,  Richard  assured  himself, 
could  not  be,  for  the  new  era  was  built  upon  co-opera- 
tion and  mutual  service — the  basis  of  human  society 
itself — as  against  competition  and  the  struggle  of  self- 
interest.  It  was  too  much  to  hope  that  his  generation 
would  see  the  two  elements  of  capital  and  labor  wholly 
reconciled,  but  he  did  believe  it  possible  to  demonstrate 
the  needlessness  of  conflict.  If  he  could  be  a  force  in 
accomplishing  this  demonstration,  he  would  be  content 
to  have  his  son,  an  employer,  standing  shoulder  to 
shoulder  with  John  Doe,  the  employed,  united  to  gain 
from  their  combined  efforts  the  rewards  to  which  each 

[289] 


THE    BALANCE 


was  fairly  entitled,  producing  the  maximum  output 
consistent  with  the  health  and  welfare  of  the  workmen, 
supplying  the  public  at  a  price  which  made  the  burden 
of  the  cost  of  living  rest  equally  upon  all,  and  placing 
America  in  the  vanguard  of  nations  as  a  real  and  great 
democracy  in  industry  as  well  as  government. 

Ill 

"Well,  young  man,"  Mr.  Stewart  remarked  by  way  of 
preliminary,  after  the  three  had  gathered  in  the  library, 
"my  colleagues  on  the  Board  of  Directors  are  anxiously 
awaiting  the  result  of  this  conference.  When  I  acted 
as  your  ambassador  before,  I  made  little  success  of  my 
embassy;  but  the  seed  we  planted  then  has  produced 
some  fruit.  The  Directors  are  agreed  that  a  change 
in  policy  is  necessary.  Whether  your  plans  will  meet 
their  approval  or  not  I  cannot  say,  but  of  course  your 
present  position  as  a  stockholder  will  carry  great 
weight.  You  will  wish  to  present  your  own  case  to  them, 
but  it  would  interest  me  to  discuss  it  with  you  now. 
Lola  tells  me  your  original  ideas  have  expanded  con- 
siderably since  we  talked  them  over  before." 

"  'Expanded'  is  just  the  word,  Mr.  Stewart,"  Rich- 
ard replied  eagerly.  "The  idea  has  not  materially 
changed,  but  the  application  is  much  broader.  I  appre- 
ciate this  opportunity  to  discuss  it  with  you  because 
what  I  need  is  good,  straightforward,  constructive  crit- 
icism ...  I  would  like  to  assume  that  the  interests 
of  the  employer  and  the  employed  are  the  same,  and 
then  pick  out  the  basic  obstacles  which  at  present  inter- 

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THE    BALANCE 


fere  with  the  functionalizing  of  the  two  elements  in  co- 
operation." 

"To  find  the  obstacles,  Dick,  will  be  the  easiest  part 
of  your  task,"  Stewart  commented.  "I  have  read  ev- 
erything I  could  lay  my  hands  on  .  .  .  profit-sharing, 
profit-halving,  management-sharing,  factory  represen- 
tation, and  the  like,  but  I  must  confess  that  high  above 
every  delightful  theory  some  ever-present  obstacle  rears 
its  head.  When  I  urged  the  Directors  to  make  a  trial  of 
your  plan,  I  did  it  more  because  I  felt  that  the  employer 
is  bound  to  accept  every  suggestion  advanced  by  labor 
in  an  effort  to  bridge  the  chasm,  than  because  I  really 
believed  it  would  succeed." 

"There  is  no  chasm,  Mr.  Stewart,"  Richard  insisted. 
"To  acknowledge  one  is  to  create  it.  The  element  in 
labor-unionism  which  prevents  co-operation  can  exist 
only  so  long  as  class  distinction  is  encouraged.  That 
is  why  they  make  the  possession  of  a  union  card  of  par- 
amount importance,  that  is  why  they  hammer  so  hard 
on  organization.  Suppose  the  labor  union  came  out 
tomorrow  with  a  statement  that  its  function  was  three- 
fold ...  to  secure  for  the  working-man  good  wages, 
satisfactory  working  conditions,  and  the  highest  possi- 
ble standard  of  craftsmanship;  that  any  industrial  or- 
ganization which  satisfied  these  would  receive  its  en- 
dorsement whether  it  was  working  on  a  union  or  non- 
union basis ;  that  the  basis  of  its  existence  was  its  ability 
to  serve.  Could  any  workman  afford  to  remain  outside  ? 
Would  the  Directors  of  the  Norton  Manufacturing 
Company  have  any  difficulty  in  doing  business  with  such 
an  organization?" 

[291] 


THE    BALANCE 


"It  would  be  for  the  Company's  interest  to  co-oper- 
ate with  it  to  the  fullest  extent,"  Stewart  admitted; 
"but  that  would  only  be  possible  after  your  ideal  labor 
organization  had  worked  out  definite  standards  by 
which  could  be  measured  industrial  health,  fairness,  and 
well-being." 

"Of  course !"  Richard  cried,  delighted  that  Mr.  Stew- 
art was  following  him  so  closely.  "At  present  the 
unions  have  no  standards,  .  .  only  requirements.  In- 
stead of  establishing  a  standard  by  which  to  measure, 
they  simply  issue  demands." 

"To  work  out  a  sound  labor  union  standard  would 
be  an  interesting  commission  for  a  real  philosopher," 
Stewart  said  meditatively;  "it  would  embrace  a  com- 
plete working-theory  of  the  relation  of  the  workman 
to  industry." 

"What  a  privilege  it  would  be!"  Richard  exclaimed 
enthusiastically.  "Who  would  not  be  proud  to  be  the 
author  of  such  a  document?  At  present  the  unions  de- 
pend upon  the  power  which  comes  through  organization. 
Germany  demonstrated  the  fallacy  that  power  thus  se- 
cured possesses  permanency,  but  because  during  the  war 
employers  yielded  temporarily,  labor  is  as  thoroughly 
deceived  as  to  its  real  position  as  were  the  Huns  up  to 
the  time  of  the  second  Battle  of  the  Marne." 

"You  have  hold  of  a  big  idea,  my  boy." 

"It  isn't  my  idea,  .  .  it  is  the  combined  result  of 
everything  we  see  around  us.  It  is  a  common  mistake 
to  confuse  the  means  and  the  end.  The  labor  union 
ought  to  consider  itself  the  means,  and  it  doesn't.  It 
is  completely  satisfied  if  it  can  enroll  one  hundred  per 

[292] 


THE    BALANCE 


cent,  of  the  employees  of  a  plant  in  its  membership. 
The  standard  of  wages,  of  workmanship,  of  conditions, 
is  secondary  so  long  as  the  union  cards  are  there.  In 
every  other  walk  in  life  we  have  learned  how  much  more 
valuable  is  the  law  of  prevention  than  the  law  of  cure." 

"Why  couldn't  it  be  done?"  Stewart  demanded. 

"It  can  be  done !"  Richard  declared.  "I  have  mixed 
a  lot  with  the  workmen,  and  as  a  class  I  have  absolute 
faith  in  them.  At  heart  they  resent  restricted  output 
and  the  other  union  requirements  which  destroy  their 
self-respect.  They  are  intelligent,  but  they  are  sus- 
picious. They  have  been  deceived  so  many  times  in  the 
past  that  they  have  come  to  look  upon  every  advance 
made  by  their  employers  as  having  an  underlying  ul- 
terior motive.  Their  confidence  must  be  won  by  actual 
evidences  of  fair  play;  but  they  can  be  won  if  em- 
ployers can  be  forced  to  give  up  their  feudal  instincts. 
You  know  better  than  I  whether  that  is  possible." 

"That  is  already  taking  place,"  Stewart  replied,  .  . 
"not  from  choice  or  a  change  in  heart,  but  because  em- 
ployers now  realize  that  their  future  is  irrevocably 
associated  with  the  welfare  of  the  employed.  Our  own 
Directors  are  included  in  that  category.  That  is  why 
they  are  willing  to  listen  to  you  now  that  James  Norton 
can  no  longer  hold  them  back." 

"I  can't  believe  he  would  hold  them  back  today  if 
he  were  here,"  Lola  said  impressively. 

"Habit  is  a  powerful  master,"  Stewart  answered 
kindly.  "Except  for  that,  in  view  of  that  last  docu- 
ment, Richard  might  have  had  the  joy  of  his  father's 

[293] 


THE    BALANCE 


approval  and  co-operation.  .  .  .  But  it  is  a  satis- 
faction to  know  the  truth  at  last !  Too  old  to  change 
his  ways,  but  not  too  old  to  recognize  the  possible 
element  of  success  in  what  his  son  suggested !  If  James 
Norton  could  compromise  with  his  hard-set  ideas,  I 
see  no  reason  why  we  should  show  ourselves  less  pro- 
gressive! .  .  Now,  do  you  believe  yourself  competent 
to  inaugurate  the  millenium  at  the  Norton  Manufac- 
turing Company?" 

"No,"  was  Richard's  prompt  and  definite  reply ;  "but 
if  I  could  have  the  backing  of  the  Directors,  I  know 
I  could  convince  the  men  of  our  sincerity.  Then  I 
should  call  in  the  ablest  men  I  could  find  to  work  out 
a  basis  which  both  sides  would  consider  possessed  a  fair 
chance  of  success.  I  would  start  out  simply  with  my 
objective  determined,  and  that  objective  should  be  maxi- 
mum production,  highest  quality,  best  wages,  perfect 
working  conditions,  fair  play.  I  should  establish  stand- 
ards which  both  sides  would  accept,  and  I  should  meas- 
ure everything  by  these  standards.  I  should  have  the 
factory  represented  in  the  management,  and  the  man- 
agement represented  in  the  factory.  We  fought  for  a 
common  cause  in  France,  and  we  would  fight  for  a 
common  cause  here.  It  can  be  done,  Mr.  Stewart,  *  . 
not  easily,  for  selfishness  and  short-sightedness  are  pow- 
erful obstacles;  but  unless  we  face  the  situation  now 
we  will  be  false  to  the  best  there  is  in  us." 

"Buckle  on  your  armor,  my  son !"  Stewart  exclaimed, 
smiling.  "I  see  before  me  the  James  Norton  I  knew 
over  a  quarter  of  a  century  ago.  I  see  the  same  in- 
spired confidence,  the  same  dynamic  energy,  tempered 

[294] 


THE    BALANCE 


now  by  the  experiences  of  a  new  generation,  fitted  for 
the  new  conditions.  Somewhere  between  conflicting  ele- 
ments there  is  always  a  balance.  Why  should  it  not 
be  you?    Nos  morituri  te  salutamusl" 


[295] 


CHAPTER     XXXI 


I 

DURING  these  weeks  there  was  little  place  in 
Richard's  life  either  for  Lola  or  Olga.  He  was 
back  now  in  the  big  house  on  the  Hill,  so  the 
daily  mingling  with  the  Stewart  family  had  come  to  an 
end;  and  Olga  studiously  avoided  him.  The  big  house 
would  have  been  awesome  through  its  emptiness  and  de- 
pressing from  its  memories  except  that  Richard  re- 
turned to  it  only  to  sleep,  and  so  thoroughly  exhausted 
from  his  strenuous  days  that  he  was  indifferent  to  his 
surroundings.  While  James  Norton  lived,  the  house 
seemed  filled  by  the  tremendous  force  of  his  personality ; 
Richard  slipped  in  and  out  almost  without  Hannah's 
knowledge.  She,  poor  soul,  had  now  a  new  anxiety  to 
replace  those  which  had  been  relieved,  in  her  fear  that 
her  "Mr.  Richard"  was  killing  himself  by  his  long  hours 
and  arduous  application. 

II 

Olga  deliberately  kept  out  of  Richard's  way  as  a 
part  of  her  self-abnegation.  Whenever  his  routine 
duties  at  the  plant  required  him  to  walk  by  her  machine, 
the  girl's  eyes  became  fastened  on  the  unfinished  work 
before  them.  After  he  passed,  the  eyes  slowly  raised 
themselves  and  watched  the  retreating  figure.    But  she 

[296] 


THE    BALANCE 


could  see  no  reason  why  he  should  not  stop  long  enough 
to  give  her  the  cheery  greeting  that  was  his  custom. 
This  caused  her  fresh  alarm.  Could  it  be  that  what  he 
said  to  her  during  that  last  conference  was  really  a 
polite  dismissal  ?  Her  ever-watchful  eyes  and  ears  bore 
testimony  to  the  fact  that  if  Richard  was  neglecting 
her,  the  "Stewart  lady"  shared  the  slight  with  her,  and 
this  eased  her  apprehensions.  Whatever  the  real  situ- 
ation, her  thoughts  were  ever  centered  upon  him.  While 
she  sat  at  her  work,  the  machinery  repeated  his  name 
with  terrifying  monotony ;  when  she  returned  to  the 
little  flat,  she  found  it  filled  with  aching  memories. 
Even  those  which  had  given  her  happiness  before  now 
brought  pain  because  she  knew  they  could  be  no  more. 
Those  among  Olga's  friends  who  had  commented  upon 
her  previous  intimacy  with  Richard,  found  a  new  topic 
for  conversation.  It  was  to  be  expected,  they  admitted, 
that  the  heir  to  the  Norton  wealth  would  throw  her  over 
now  that  he  had  come  into  his  own,  but  they  were 
frankly  surprised  to  find  Olga  turning  to  Tony  Lem- 
holtz  after  the  bitter  speeches  she  had  made  against 
him.  These  friends  did  not  realize  how  much  news  of 
Richard  the  girl  secured  from  his  vituperative  enemy, 
or  how  important  Olga  considered  it  to  keep  herself 
informed  at  all  times  of  the  plans  Tony  Lemholtz  cher- 
ished in  the  back  of  his  scheming,  vindictive  head. 
Knowing  him  as  she  did,  Olga  feared  for  Richard's 
safety,  and  the  habit  of  watching  over  her  charge  still 
held  strong.  Except  for  this,  she  could  not  have  paid 
the  price,  for  Tony's  gloating  over  the  present  situa- 
tion was  almost  more  than  she  could  endure. 

[297] 


THE    BALANCE 


"It's  your  own  fault,"  he  goaded  her.  "I  told  you 
all  the  time  that  a  swell  guy  like  him  had  no  use  for  a 
workin'-girl.  He  was  just  playin'  with  you,  he  was, 
and  you're  lucky  if  you  got  by  without  gettin'  burnt 
...  I  ain't  so  sure  you  did,  at  that,  except  that  you 
let  him  get  away  from  you  without  makin'  any  fuss. 
A  girl  like  you  would  hold  a  feller  if  she  had  any  grip 
on  him,  you  bet." 

"Shut  your  mouth,  Tony,  or  else  talk  sense,"  Olga 
retorted.  "He  is  tending  to  his  business,  and  you  had 
better  do  the  same." 

"He  ain't  tendin'  to  his  business,"  was  the  hot  reply. 
"He's  buttin'  into  mine,  and  I'll  make  him  sweat  for  it 
yet.  He's  made  me  look  like  a  dirty  two-spot  in  a 
phoney  deck,  he  knocked  my  block  off  the  day  his  old 
man  was  croaked.  Now  he's  try  in'  to  run  the  union, 
.  .  him  owning  the  most  of  the  Company !  It's  a  great 
game,  but  he  can't  put  it  across.  He's  foolin'  some  of 
the  men,  but  most  of  us  can  see  what  he  will  do  to  us 
if  he  ever  gets  us  under  his  heel.  As  another  gentleman 
once  said,  'You  can't  fool  all  the  people  all  the  time' 
.  .  .  I'll  get  him  yet !" 

Tony  could  not  have  told  who  the  other  gentleman 
was,  but  the  quotation  served  his  purpose.  Olga  was 
too  wise  to  offer  any  defence  for  Richard,  for  to  be  his 
champion  would  put  Lemholtz  on  his  guard.  This 
unexpected  acquiescence  was  completely  misunderstood, 
as  the  girl  intended  it  to  be,  and  Tony  attributed  the 
lack  of  spirit  to  a  belated  awakening  on  her  part  to 
the  real  facts. 

Aside  from  Tony's  attitude  toward  Richard,  Olga 
[298] 


THE    BALANCE 


was  most  concerned  regarding  Lola.  In  fact,  the 
"Stewart  lady"  had  been  a  mystery  from  the  begin- 
ning. To  have  the  opportunity  of  loving  Richard  and 
not  be  sure  of  her  own  reciprocation  was  absolutely 
incomprehensible  to  Olga.  Lola's  restrained  bearing, 
as  she  saw  her  from  time  to  time,  so  much  at  variance 
with  her  own  temperamental  nature,  always  impressed 
the  girl  as  cold  and  unresponsive ;  but  after  the  tragedy 
Olga  was  forced  to  reconstruct  her  ideas.  No  girl  who 
did  not  love  a  man  would  work  as  Lola  did  in  Rich- 
ard's behalf;  and  if  she  did  love  him,  then  the  selfish 
hopefulness  raised  by  Olga's  analysis  disappeared,  and 
she  considered  the  two  as  good  as  married. 

The  second  readjustment  came  when  Richard  told 
her  that  he  had  renounced  all  present  idea  of  marriage, 
and  gave  her  the  astonishing  information  that  Lola 
understood  and  agreed  with  him.  To  Olga,  a  woman 
who  loved  him  might  understand,  but  that  she  would 
agree  was  unthinkable.  There  must  be  something  be- 
neath it  all  which  he  had  not  told  her,  and  she  longed 
to  solve  the  mystery.  If  Richard  was  really  planning 
to  devote  his  energies  to  the  cause  of  the  working  man, 
Olga  was  quite  ready  to  believe  the  Stewart  lady  ill- 
suited  to  the  life  which  this  would  require ;  but,  by  the 
same  token,  she  considered  herself  ideally  equipped  to 
encourage  and  supplement  Richard  at  every  point. 

Ill 

The  opportunity  of  meeting  the  "Stewart  lady,"  and 
forming    first-hand    impressions,    came    unexpectedly. 

[299] 


THE    BALANCE 


Olga  was  walking  from  the  plant  one  noon  when  the  trim 
roadster  Lola  was  driving  stopped  beside  her. 

"May  I  take  you  where  you're  going?"  the  voice 
from  the  car  asked. 

Olga  was  too  surprised  to  make  a  protest. 

"For  a  long  time  I've  wanted  to  know  you,"  Lola 
continued  as  the  girl  silently  climbed  into  the  car. 
"Richard  Norton  has  told  me  so  much  about  you." 

If  Lola  desired  to  become  acquainted,  Olga  was  no 
less  eager.  She  did  not  deceive  herself  as  to  Lola's 
motive,  for  she  easily  understood  that  it  was  the  same 
as  her  own ;  but  she  was  quick  to  sense  that  the  oppor- 
tunity she  longed  for  had  at  last  arrived.  There  was  a 
natural  embarrassment  when  she  actually  found  herself 
seated  beside  the  girl  she  had  successively  disliked, 
feared,  and  envied.  Lola,  however,  at  once  made  her 
feel  at  ease. 

"You're  going  to  lunch,  aren't  you?  I'm  all  alone 
at  the  house  today  .  .  .  Why  can't  you  come  home  and 
lunch  with  me?" 

"Why  .  .  .» 

"Of  course  this  seems  very  unusual  to  you,"  Lola 
followed  up  the  advantage  offered  by  the  momentary 
hesitation,  and  the  car  still  speeded  toward  the  Stewart 
home.  "I  really  know  you  better  than  you  know  me,  and 
for  a  long  time  I  have  wanted  to  have  a  talk  with  you." 

Olga  decided  quickly.  The  experience  might  prove 
unpleasant,  but  at  least  it  offered  her  a  chance  she  might 
never  have  again. 

"I  will  come,"  she  said  simply ;  "but  I  am  not  so  sure 
about  you  knowing  me  better  than  I  do  you.    Mr.  Rich- 

[300] 


THE    BALANCE 


ard  has  told  me  a  lot  about  you.  When  he  was  so  sick 
he  kept  calling  your  name,  but  that  was  natural  be- 
cause then  you  and  he  were  engaged  to  be  married." 

"You  were  a  wonderful  help  to  him,  Olga,  .  .  do 
you  mind?  Richard  always  calls  you  that,  and  I  never 
think  of  you  except  as  'Olga.' " 

Lola's  friendliness  was  bewildering  to  her  companion. 
If  their  positions  were  reversed,  Olga  would  not  have 
been  as  generous. 

"I  did  not  know  he  was  ill  until  it  was  all  over,"  Lola 
added. 

"He  was  not  willing  for  you  to  know,  for  fear  you 
would  try  to  come  to  him.  He  knew  that  would  not  do, 
but  with  me  it  made  no  difference." 

Lola  started  to  make  reply,  but  the  car  ran  under 
the  porte-cochere,  and  she  decided  to  postpone  the  con- 
tinuation of  their  conversation  on  this  subject  until  a 
more  propitious  moment.  She  led  Olga  into  the  house, 
and  during  the  simple  luncheon  they  chatted  of  every- 
thing except  the  one  topic  which  remained  uppermost 
in  the  minds  of  both.  Lola  told  her  guest  of  the  work 
with  the  ex-service  men,  and  elicited  her  assistance, 
inquired  as  to  conditions  at  the  plant  from  the  work- 
men's standpoint,  and  in  general  guided  the  conver- 
sation along  safe  channels  until  they  found  themselves 
seated  in  the  deep  recesses  of  a  great  divan  in  the  li- 
brary.   Then  Lola  turned  back  to  Olga's  remark. 

"Why  should  it  be  different  for  me  to  go  to  Richard's 
flat,  Olga,  than  for  you?"  she  asked. 

"You  are  a  lady,  and  people  would  take  notice.  They 
do  not  pay  so  much  attention  to  us  working-girls." 

[301] 


THE    BALANCE 


"He  might  have  been  brought  here  .  .  ." 

Olga  winced. 

"That  was  what  I  feared,"  she  acknowledged  frankly. 

Lola  had  every  desire  not  to  wound  her,  and  she  saw 
that  she  was  on  dangerous  ground. 

"Even  if  he  had  been  brought  here,  I  couldn't  have 
done  for  him  what  you  did.  Richard  has  told  me  what 
a  wonderful  nurse  you  were." 

"It  is  easy  to  take  good  care  of  Mr.  Richard,"  Olga 
said  impulsively.     Then  her  eyes  dropped. 

Lola  studied  the  girl  carefully.  She  was  winsome 
in  her  frankness.  Her  devotion  to  Richard  was  only 
too  apparent  in  every  word  she  spoke,  and  a  heavy  load 
fell  on  Lola's  heart  as  she  realized  what  Richard  had 
so  little  foreseen  or  comprehended.  It  was  impossible 
to  fence  with  Olga ;  she  was  too  ingenuous,  too  honest  in 
the  expression  of  her  own  feelings. 

"You  are  very  fond  of  Richard,  aren't  you,  Olga?" 
Lola  asked  quietly. 

The  girl  looked  up  quickly.  She  seemed  surprised 
that  her  heart  had  been  so  easily  read.  She  tried  to 
smile,  but  the  attempt  was  unsuccessful. 

"What  is  the  use  of  lying?"  she  answered,  the  old  de- 
fiant attitude  returning.  "I  suppose  I  ought  not  to  say 
it  to  you,  but  you  asked  me,  and  I  will  not  lie  to  you. 
I  am  more  than  fond  of  Mr.  Richard.  I  love  him,  .  . 
more  than  you  ever  did,  or  you  would  not  have  agreed 
with  him  about  his  not  marrying." 

Olga  was  prepared  for  an  indignant  protest  from 
her  companion,  but  none  came.  Instead,  Lola  placed 
her  arm  around  thejgirl's  shoulders.     Her  action  sur- 

[302] 


THE    BALANCE 


prised  Olga,  and  she  felt  thoroughly  ashamed  of  her 
outburst. 

"I  suppose  you  do  love  him  as  much  as  a  girl  like 
you  can,"  she  modified  her  previous  statement;  "but 
folks  brought  up  your  way  cannot  have  the  same  feel- 
ings as  working-girls.  We  have  to  fight  for  everything 
we  get.  It  makes  us  hate  harder  and  love  stronger. 
You  could  not  understand." 

" Aren't  you  taking  a  great  deal  for  granted,  Olga?" 

"Why,  our  whole  lives  are  made  up  of  sacrifice! 
What  have  you  ever  had  to  give  up  in  order  to  get 
something  else?" 

"I  do  understand,"  Lola  insisted,  .  .  "perhaps  bet- 
ter than  you  know.  What  sacrifices  I  have  made  in  my 
life  are  nothing  compared  with  yours;  but  until  you 
have  seen  me  fail  you  cannot  say  that  I  wouldn't  prove 
equal  to  the  test  if  a  great  sacrifice  was  demanded 
of  me." 

Olga  looked  at  Lola  intently,  instantly  challenged 
by  her  statement. 

"Do  you  mean  that  ?"  she  demanded  quickly.  "Listen 
...  I  will  give  you  the  test.  We  both  love  Richard 
Norton.  Except  for  you,  I  know  that  I  could  marry 
him.  You  never  made  a  real  sacrifice,  I  have  never 
known  anything  else.  Give  Richard  to  me.  This  is 
your  chance.     Will  you  take  it?" 

"I  would  take  it  in  a  moment,"  Lola  answered  de- 
liberately, "if  I  thought  it  would  mean  his  greatest 
happiness.  You  have  no  claim  on  me  which  warrants 
such  a  sacrifice;  the  fact  that  I  love  him  gives  such  a 
claim   to  Richard  .  .  *  But  why   talk  of   this   now? 

[303] 


THE    BALANCE 


He  is  not  going  to  marry  any  one,  so  the  sacrifice  has 
come  to  us  both." 

"The  reason  he  does  not  wish  to  marry  is  because  he 
thinks  it  will  interfere  with  his  work  for  the  men.  Do 
you  not  see  that  I  could  help  him  much  more  than  you 
because  I  am  one  of  the  working-people,  and  under- 
stand them  better?" 

"Whenever  Richard  feels  that  to  be  so,  I  will  stand 
aside." 

"You  will?" 

Olga's  expression  manifested  her  unqualified  aston- 
ishment. 

Lola  bowed  her  head  in  reiteration,  and  as  she  did 
so  Olga  thought  she  saw  tears  glistening  in  her  eyes. 
She  looked  again  to  make  sure. 

"You  are  not  really  crying?"  she  asked  incredulously. 

"How  foolish  of  me!"  Lola  exclaimed,  drying  her 
eyes.  "You  touched  on  something  which  is  very  pre- 
cious to  me,  but  I  didn't  mean  to  show  any  one  how 
precious  it  is.  I  have  given  up  all  thought  of  marrying 
Richard.  I  have  steeled  myself  to  look  at  things  the 
way  he  wishes  me  to.  But  nothing  can  keep  me  from 
loving  him  with  all  the  strength  I  have,  so  long  as  I 
live." 

IV 

It  was  a  day  of  novel  sensations  to  Olga.  These  peo- 
ple who  lived  in  beautiful  houses  and  were  surrounded 
by  every  luxury,  were  human  after  all !  This  girl  be- 
side her  was  crying,  just  as  she  had  cried  that  after- 
noon when  Richard  left  her !  Let  them  exchange  po- 
ll 304] 


THE    BALANCE 


sitions,  and  there  would  be  little  difference  between 
them  .  .  .  they  were  sisters  under  the  skin ! 

Olga  was  sobered  by  her  discovery.  Half  hesitating 
at  her  temerity,  she  slipped  her  arm  about  Lola's  waist. 
Receiving  no  rebuff  she  grew  bolder. 

"I  never  knew  you  folks  had  feelings  like  that,"  she 
said  in  a  low  voice.  "Perhaps  you  have  made  a  sacrifice 
already  that  I  would  not  make  when  Richard  asked  me 
to.  I  want  him  to  be  happy,  just  as  you  do,  and  he 
probably  knows  better  than  either  one  of  us  what  is 
best  for  him.  I  did  not  mean  to  hurt  you.  I  have 
been  unhappy.  Until  today  I  hated  you,  but  it  was  I 
who  did  not  understand.    I  cannot  hate  you  now." 

"We  both  understand  each  other  better,"  Lola  reas- 
sured her,  smiling  through  her  tears.  "I'm  so  glad  that 
I  yielded  to  the  impulse  to  take  you  home  with  me  today. 
Neither  one  of  us  can  blame  the  other  for  loving  Rich- 
ard. Each  of  us  has  that  right,  and  needs  not  be 
ashamed  to  acknowledge  it.  We  must  let  it  be  a  bond 
between  us,  instead  of  something  to  keep  us  apart. 
We  both  will  wish  him  success  and  happiness." 

Olga  rose  in  silence  to  take  her  leave.  At  the  door 
she  held  Lola's  proffered  hand,  and  before  releasing  it 
touched  it  to  her  lips. 

"I  guess  my  most  selfish  wish  would  be  that  he  never 
marries,"  she  said  quietly.  "So  long  as  he  could  get 
a  girl  like  you  he  would  never  look  at  me  ...  I  did 
not  know  before  that  there  were  such  people  in  the 
world!" 


[305] 


CHAPTER     XXXII 


A  PROBLEM  which  concerned  Richard  deeply 
was  how  to  work  out  his  plan  in  such  a  way 
as  to  capitalize  the  ex-service  men  in  industry. 
From  his  own  experiences  he  recognized  the  inability 
of  these  returned  soldiers  to  go  back  into  the  old  grooves 
after  having  realized  so  tremendous  a  momentum  in  a 
new  and  different  direction;  but  he  refused  to  accept 
the  bromidic  statements  that  they  were  drained  emo- 
tionally, or  that  the  baptism  of  fire,  instead  of  uplift- 
ing, had  made  them  unfit  or  unwilling  to  return  to  their 
former  positions,  and  thus  produced  a  class  of  social 
misfits. 

"If  the  world  has  been  sorely  disappointed  in  the 
returned  soldier,"  he  explained  to  his  Directors,  "so 
has  the  returned  soldier  been  sorely  disappointed  in 
the  world  into  which  he  returned.  It  was  natural  that 
he  should  be  gratified  by  the  extravagant  praise  given 
for  his  sacrifice,  his  heroism,  and  his  consecration  to 
the  cause.  It  was  agreeable  to  him  to  accept  the  theory 
of  the  regenerated  soldier.  He  believed  in  the  talk 
about  the  strange  light  of  vision  in  the  eyes  of  men  who 
had  stood  face  to  face  with  death,  because  he  had  seen 

[306] 


THE    BALANCE 


it.  He  was  willing  to  admit  that  he  had  been  purged 
by  fire  and  sword.  Then,  when  he  discovered  that  all 
this  idealization  of  him  was  only  a  passing  phase  of 
society,  a  distrust  came  into  his  soul  which  thus  far 
nothing  has  relieved;  and  out  of  this  bitterness  was 
born  a  desire  to  force  society  to  recognize  its  obliga- 
tion by  paying  him  a  bonus.  Think  of  it !  Asking  for 
a  bonus  when  we  haven't  yet  taken  care  of  the  disabled 
soldiers !  But  when  these  artificial  excrescences  are 
scraped  off,  underneath  is  the  real  product  of  the  war : 
men  whose  inventive  and  constructive  instincts  have 
been  sharpened  by  the  premium  which  war  places  upon 
human  ingenuity  and  skill,  and  whose  desire  to  express 
these  instincts  is  dominating.  The  factory  as  run  to- 
day offers  no  scope  for  this,  and  that  is  what  causes  un- 
rest.    We  must  turn  this  liability  into  an  asset." 

II 

They  were  hard  days  but  rare  days  to  Richard,  filled 
with  opposition  and  discouragement,  but  never  void  of 
the  ever-present  confidence  that  success  must  come  be- 
cause it  ought  to  come.  He  tried  to  gauge  his  progress, 
but  there  was  nothing  by  which  to  measure  it.  The  Di- 
rectors at  last  gave  their  consent  to  the  employment  of 
experts,  and  for  a  time  everything  seemed  in  so  cha- 
otic a  condition  that  all  except  Richard  lost  hope.  Alec 
Sterling  was  a  tower  of  strength,  but  his  unswerving 
support  was  an  expression  of  loyalty  rather  than  con- 
fidence. He  knew  that  some  change  was  essential  in 
the  relations  between  employer  and  employed,  but  what 
that  change  ought  to  be  had  never  been  clear  to  him. 

[307] 


THE    BALANCE 


Richard's  enthusiasm  contributed  a  new  element  to  his 
solid  but  stolid  Scotch  nature,  which  sensed  the  im- 
portance of  an  innovation  yet  shrank  from  taking  the 
initiative. 

To  the  ex-service  men  Richard  presented  his  problem 
differently,  but  to  the  same  end.  With  the  new  author- 
ity given  him  by  the  Directors,  he  placed  the  case 
squarely  before  them. 

"Boys,"  he  said,  "we  fought  for  something  in  France 
we  didn't  get,  and  it's  partly  our  fault  and  partly  our 
misfortune.  Now  it's  up  to  us  to  correct  the  fault, 
and  to  turn  the  misfortune  into  an  advantage.  The 
trouble  with  us  is  that  we  haven't  carried  on.  After 
doing  our  job  over  there,  and  being  received  here  at 
home  as  if  we  were  little  tin  gods,  we've  laid  down  and 
made  people  think  a  whole  lot  of  things  about  us  that 
aren't  so.  It  isn't  a  cheerful  experience  to  be  a  hero 
one  day  and  an  ordinary  workman  the  next;  and 
ordinary  is  just  what  we've  been.  Instead  of  making 
use  of  our  experience  and  leveling  things  up  here  at 
home,  we've  been  disgusted  when  the  people  around  us 
forgot  there  had  been  a  war  at  all,  and  by  standing 
still  we've  let  them  level  us  down.  That's  where  we 
have  been  to  blame.  We  have  known  right  along  that 
our  experiences  have  made  us  more  capable  and  more 
valuable  to  any  industry  we  may  be  in,  but  the  employ- 
ers haven't  known  it,  and  they  haven't  let  us  show 
them.    That  has  been  our  misfortune. 

"Now,  those  of  us  right  here  are  going  to  have  the 
chance  to  show  our  class  in  civilian  life  just  as  we  did 
in  the  army.    The  Directors  are  willing  to  try  out  the 

[308] 


THE    BALANCE 


experiment  of  letting  us  have  something  to  say  in  the 
way  this  business  is  run.  They  have  given  me  some 
authority,  and  they're  going  to  give  me  more,  to  make 
good  on  the  statements  I've  made  as  to  what  you  boys 
can  do.  If  you  back  me  up,  we'll  turn  out  better  work 
and  more  of  it,  we'll  get  more  out  of  it  ourselves  than  we 
ever  did  before,  we'll  be  able  to  retain  our  self-respect 
because  we'll  be  putting  ourselves  into  our  work,  and  be- 
cause we'll  have  the  chance  to  show  the  best  there  is  in 
us.  If  you  don't  back  me  up,  then  there's  nothing  to  it. 
We'll  all  settle  down  into  the  old  routine,  and  let  Ger- 
many win  the  peace.  They're  working  over  there,  boys. 
They've  learned  their  lesson.  They  realize  that  to  pay 
their  indemnity  and  get  back  on  their  feet  they've  got 
to  produce  five  times  as  much  as  they  ever  did  before, 
and  they're  going  to  do  it.  In  Germany  they're  raising 
blisters  on  the  mailed  fist,  and  they  call  it  economic  en- 
thusiasm! That's  something  we  need  right  now.  We 
didn't  let  the  Huns  beat  us  over  there,  boys,  .  .  are 
we  going  to  let  them  beat  us  here?" 

The  union  officials  were  unalterably  opposed  to  every 
suggestion  of  co-operation  between  the  management  and 
the  shop.  Richard's  ideas,  successfully  introduced, 
meant  the  end  of  their  arbitrary  power.  If  the  men 
themselves  could  deal  directly  with  those  conducting  the 
business  end,  and  secure  their  "rights"  by  discussion 
rather  than  by  the  force  of  mob  organization,  then  the 
usefulness  of  the  agitator  was  over,  and  he  must  ex- 
change his  profession  of  lung-thinking  for  the  more  pro- 
ductive though  less  agreeable  pursuit  of  honest  labor. 

The  men  themselves,  while  more  non-committal  than 
[309] 


THE    BALANCE 


Richard  would  have  liked,  were  not  antagonistic  as  a 
class.  The  fear  of  losing  their  union  cards  was  their 
greatest  apprehension.  If  they  could  actually  feel 
themselves  an  integral  part  of  the  business  itself  with- 
out risking  the  loss  of  something  else,  they  recognized 
in  the  new  relations  a  return  of  their  self-respect  and 
a  satisfying  of  their  innate  yearning  for  constructive 
expression  which  the  introduction  of  labor-saving  ma- 
chinery destroyed.  But  they  would  make  no  definite 
effort  themselves  to  secure  the  change.  If  Richard  could 
bring  it  about,  if  the  union  did  not  specifically  proscribe 
such  action,  if  they  were  free  to  return  to  the  old  con- 
ditions after  the  experiment  in  case  they  preferred 
them  to  the  new  .  .  .  this  was  as  far  as  they  could  be 
brought  to  commit  themselves.  But  passivity  was  bet- 
ter than  opposition,  so  Richard  worked  on.  The  fact 
that  the  men  as  a  whole  liked  him  and  trusted  him  was 
in  itself  an  impetus. 

Ill 

The  one  striking  triumph  which  Richard  had  achieved 
was  John  Sibley,  and  he  cherished  him  as  fondly  as 
Lola  cherished  Barry,  ,  ,  as  a  symbol  rather  than  an 
individual.  Richard  had  expected  great  things  of  Sib- 
ley when  he  returned  to  civilian  duties,  and  had  been 
disappointed.  He  had  seen  him  in  France,  as  he  rose 
by  sheer  character  and  effort  from  private  to  captain. 
He  had  seen  the  personal  asset  grow  as  Sibley  grasped 
each  opportunity  and  reached  each  new  objective. 
Richard  was  proud  to  hear  the  praise  spoken  by  his 
superior  officers  of  this  worker  from  the  Norton  plant, 

[310] 


THE    BALANCE 


and  he  felt  sure  that  John  Sibley,  multiplied  not  by 
two  million  perhaps,  but  even  by  two  hundred  thousand, 
would  introduce  so  powerful  a  leaven  into  American 
life  that  this  vision  which  had  been  the  product  of  his 
convalescence  at  Toul  could  not  fail  to  come  true. 

Then  he  had  seen  Sibley  slip  backwards  upon  his 
return.  At  first  he  blamed  him  for  not  living  up  to  him- 
self ;  later  he  sympathized  with  him.  Except  for  Lola, 
Richard  would  have  found  the  same  level.  As  a  result 
of  her  inspiration  and  the  opportunity  his  incarcera- 
tion gave  for  introspection,  he  himself  had  found  new 
anchorage.  The  fact  that  Richard  had  suffered  from 
the  same  reaction  made  it  possible  for  him  to  make  an 
understanding  approach  to  Sibley,  and  little  by  little 
he  brought  him  back  to  a  realization  and  expression  of 
his  best  self. 

It  was  Richard's  reference  to  Germany  that  finally 
struck  the  note.  The  one  conviction  which  had  ever 
strengthened  in  Sibley's  mind  was  that  the  Huns  had  re- 
ceived slight  punishment  for  the  cataclysm  they  pre- 
cipitated. One  of  his  deepest  grievances  with  the  world 
was  that  a  more  drastic  penalty  had  not  been  exacted 
to  make  them  pay  for  the  barbarism  he  had  seen  with 
his  own  eyes.  While  in  action,  he  had  learned  to  fear 
their  duplicity  far  more  than  their  boasted  might,  and 
in  what  Richard  said  he  saw  that  there  was  occasion 
still  to  fear  this  same  characteristic  in  peace. 

"Is  what  you  told  the  boys  about  the  way  the  Huns 
are  working  the  honest  truth?"  Sibley  demanded  of 
Richard  the  first  time  he  saw  him  after  the  conference 
with  the  ex-servicemen. 

[311] 


THE    BALANCE 


"Only  a  part  of  it,"  Richard  replied,  overjoyed  at 
last  to  have  him  take  the  initiative  when  previously  he 
had  simply  listened,  with  apparently  little  interest.  "I 
barely  touched  on  it,  but  Germany  is  fooling  the  world 
now  just  as  she  did  in  1914.  Her  military  budget  and 
taxes  have  been  reduced  while  those  of  all  the  other 
countries  have  been  increased;  she  makes  an  eight- 
hour  day  the  legal  limit,  and  works  fourteen.  While 
England  stands  still  in  production  and  burns  German 
coal,  while  we  are  slowed  down  by  our  strikes  and  other 
efforts  to  reduce  working  hours  and  increase  wages, 
Germany  is  building  railroads  and  new  harbors  and 
spinning  the  cotton  which  the  rest  of  the  world  rejects. 
While  the  allies  are  struggling  among  themselves  and 
with  their  domestic  troubles,  Germany  is  developing  an 
industrial  army  which  will  have  the  world  by  the  throat 
within  ten  years." 

"They  can't  do  it  unless  we  let  them,"  Sibley  declared. 

"We  are  letting  them  .  .  .  Have  you  given  the  fac- 
tory one  single  day's  work  since  you  came  home,  John 
Sibley,  that  represented  one  hundred  per  cent,  of  your 
capacity  ?" 

"Aw,  cut  out  personalities,"  was  the  retort.  "I've 
given  them  the  union  limit." 

"I  know  you  have,  and  I'm  only  asking  you  the  ques- 
tion because  you  will  understand  better  what  I  mean 
if  it  is  applied  to  yourself.  When  I  say  'you,'  I  mean 
union  labor.  We  ask  for  the  highest  wage  ever  known 
in  the  history  of  industry,  and  refuse  to  give  a  cor- 
responding equivalent.  Except  for  that,  we  could  hold 
the  wage,  and  be  entitled  to  receive  it ;  but  in  exchange 

[312] 


THE    BALANCE 


for  honest  money,  John  Sibley,  you  and  I,  and  the  hun- 
dreds of  thousands  of  workmen  throughout  the  country, 
are  giving  counterfeit  labor.  The  union  restricts  our 
output,  and  we  let  them  get  away  with  it  when  we  know 
it's  all  wrong." 

"Where  would  we  be  today  without  the  union?"  Sib- 
ley demanded. 

"Still  under  the  heel  of  the  employer,"  Richard  ac- 
knowledged frankly.  "Don't  think  for  a  minute  that 
I'm  talking  against  labor  unionism.  Without  organiza- 
tion the  working-man  would  never  have  secured  what 
belongs  to  him.  What  I'm  objecting  to,  is  the  use  made 
by  the  leaders  of  the  union  today  of  the  power  which 
has  come  to  them,  .  .  assuming  the  same  arrogant  and 
unfair  attitude  toward  the  employers  which  they  prop- 
erly complained  of  when  the  boot  was  on  the  other  leg. 
I'm  working  for  fair  play,  John,  on  both  sides.  Most 
employers  have  learned  their  lesson,  and  realize  that 
it  is  for  their  interest  to  play  the  game  with  their 
men ;  the  union  hasn't  learned  the  lesson  yet.  The  war 
gave  labor  unexpected  power,  and  the  leaders  are  still 
intoxicated  by  its  fumes.  It's  for  you  and  for  me, 
John,  and  for  the  thousands  of  other  ex-service  men  who 
have  had  their  eyes  opened  and  their  vision  broadened, 
to  sober  these  topers  up,  to  put  aside  our  suspicions, 
to  demand  our  rights  but  to  acknowledge  the  rights  of 
others,  to  meet  the  employers  half-way,  to  stop  bick- 
ering and  work,  work,  work,  so  that  America's  produc- 
tion may  keep  pace  with  Germany's.  In  that  way  we 
can  prevent  the  Huns  from  getting  a  commercial 
strangle-hold  on  the  world  and  on  us.    We  can't  revo- 

[313] 


THE    BALANCE 


lutionize  the  universe  or  even  our  own  country ;  but  we 
can  make  a  start  right  here  in  Norcross  if  men  like 
you  will  back  me  up.    Will  you  do  it,  John?" 

"I  sure  will !"  Sibley  declared,  affected  by  Richard's 
magnetism;  and  from  that  moment  the  new  movement 
had  no  stronger  ally. 


[314] 


CHAPTER     XXXIII 


SPRING  came  reluctantly  to  Norcross  that  year. 
Even  Nature  seemed  to  feel  the  strain  which  the 
town  had  endured,  and  dragged  itself  along  with 
slow-functioning  footsteps  which  denote  fatigue.  Noth- 
ing could  settle  down  into  a  routine  until  the  untoward 
events  which  had  shocked  the  usual  tranquility  of  the 
community  had  completed  their  circles  and  passed  into 
history. 

The  strike  was  now  only  a  memory,  for  the  Norton 
plant  was  running  smoothly,  with  Richard's  innovations 
fully  installed  and  under  critical  observation.  Thus 
far,  the  new  system  of  co-operation  between  the  man- 
agement and  the  men  gave  promise  of  success  in  spite 
of  individual  opposition  on  the  part  of  the  radicals, 
who  still  fought  to  retain  their  former  prestige  and 
power,  now  waning.  The  trial  of  William  Treadway 
revived  the  excitement  occasioned  by  the  tragedy; 
but  with  his  conviction  this  circle  completed  itself,  and 
Spring  and  the  town  of  Norcross  were  eager  to  forget 
the  past,  to  enter  into  full  enjoyment  of  the  present, 
and  to  look  with  confidence  into  the  future. 

But  when  at  last  the  snow-drops  and  the  crocuses  de- 
[315] 


THE    BALANCE 


lighted  Barry's  heart  by  breaking  through  the  dull 
earth,  Nature  seemed  inclined  to  atone  for  her  tardi- 
ness. The  hyacinths  and  the  daffodils  followed  fast, 
and  the  early  summer  flowers  were  not  far  behind.  The 
spirit  in  the  air  was  contagious.  Richard's  doubts 
and  apprehensions  faded  away,  and  were  replaced  by 
assured  confidence  that  his  vision  was  not  illusive.  Wil- 
liam Stewart  found  tremendous  satisfaction  in  the  fruits 
of  his  new  activities,  discovering  the  greater  joy  of 
having  his  books  the  means  rather  than  the  end,  of  turn- 
ing dreams  into  realities.  The  workmen  came  to  speak 
of  the  Norton  Manufacturing  Company  as  "our"  busi- 
ness, and  took  unlimited  pride  in  their  individual  con- 
tributions to  its  success.  Richard  Norton,  to  be  sure, 
was  now  General  Manager,  but  there  was  no  "boss," 
and  the  responsibility  for  success  or  failure  was  so 
broadly  distributed  that  the  workers  were  entitled  to 
their  self-conceit. 

n 

To  Lola,  the  late  coming  of  Spring  was  a  relief,  for 
she  had  not  yet  found  herself.  Her  happiness  in  the 
accumulative  success  at  the  works  should  perhaps  have 
been  sufficient  to  enable  her  to  join  in  the  chorus  of 
optimism;  but  with  the  gratification  she  felt  in  Rich- 
ard's triumph  was  coupled  an  over-powering  sense  of 
his  personal  responsibility  to  this  factory-girl,  who  by 
now  had  completely  won  her  heart.  Lola  had  ac- 
cepted his  judgment  regarding  their  own  marriage,  but 
since  her  visit  with  Olga  she  had  troublesome  ques- 
tionings as  to  whether  he  had  assumed  more  than  his 

[316] 


THE    BALANCE 


proper  prerogative  in  deciding  the  situation  for  all 
three.     Olga  and  she  had  rights  as  well  as  Richard. 

Lola  was  more  and  more  drawn  to  the  girl  as  she 
learned  to  know  her  better.  The  fiery,  unmanageable 
temper  came  under  control  as  a  result  of  chastening 
experiences,  and  the  "Stewart  lady"  admitted  frankly 
to  herself,  if  to  no  one  else,  that  if  Richard  really  in- 
tended to  devote  his  life  to  his  announced  project,  what 
Olga  lacked  in  education  and  social  finish  was  at  least 
offset  by  her  personal  attractiveness,  her  unwavering 
loyalty,  and  her  knowledge  of  the  class  he  wished  to 
reach. 

Olga  had  never  accepted  Richard's  dictum  that  mar- 
riage would  interfere  in  any  way  with  the  life-work 
he  had  laid  out  for  himself;  Lola  accepted  it  blindly. 
Now  she  believed  that  Olga  was  right,  and  that  Richard 
had  exaggerated  the  necessity.  She  wondered  if  per- 
haps the  thought  of  personal  sacrifice  had  not  over- 
appealed  to  him.  Seized  by  the  idea,  it  would  be  natural 
for  him  to  feel  that  complete  consecration  to  the  cause 
demanded  the  voluntary  contribution  of  his  entire  per- 
sonality. Greater  men  that  Richard  Norton  had  taken 
unlimited  satisfaction  in  the  mere  fact  of  their  mar- 
tyrdom! She  did  not  question  his  sincerity,  but  she 
began  to  form  her  own  opinions,  and  these  proved  to  be 
at  variance  with  his. 

Ill 

At  last  Lola  could  keep  her  thoughts  to  herself  no 
longer.  Some  one  must  bring  Richard  to  an  under- 
standing, and  it  was  on  her  that  the  duty  obviously 

[317] 


THE    BALANCE 


fell.  It  was  not  difficult  to  make  the  opportunity,  for 
he  was  now  a  frequent  caller  at  the  Stewart  house, 
which  really  was  more  a  home  to  him  than  his  own. 
He  and  Mr.  Stewart  saw  much  of  each  other,  both  from 
their  mutual  business  interests,  and  because  of  the 
friendship  which  had  developed  between  them.  Matur- 
ity and  experience  contributed  much  in  tempering  the 
dynamic  energy  and  optimism  of  youth;  courage  and 
ignorance  of  defeat  introduced  a  new  and  welcome 
feature  to  a  life  which  had  considered  itself  fixed  in  its 
middle-age  rigidity,  now  becoming  flexible. 

Richard  had  promised  to  let  Lola  help  in  the  work- 
ing out  of  his  plans,  and  he  undoubtedly  felt  that  he 
had  done  so.  The  girl,  however,  came  to  realize  that 
the  early  confidences  were  made  to  her  because  at  that 
time  there  was  no  one  else  with  whom  he  could  talk 
freely.  When  later  he  was  thrown  more  with  men  of 
affairs,  the  necessity  of  Lola's  comprehending  sympathy 
disappeared,  and  what  she  learned  now  of  his  work  and 
plans  came  from  listening  to  conversations  between  him 
and  her  father.  She  was  disappointed,  but  she  under- 
stood, and  no  word  was  ever  spoken  to  express  her  un- 
fulfilled expectations. 

One  evening,  after  the  usual  quiet  family  discussion, 
in  which  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Stewart  were  a  part,  the  two 
young  people  were  left  alone,  and  Lola  seized  her  oppor- 
tunity. 

"The  new  scheme  is  working  out  more  rapidly  than 
you  expected,  isn't  it,  Dick?" 

"Indeed  it  is,"  he  replied  with  enthusiasm.  "The 
results  are  proving  so  beneficial  to  both  sides  that  they 

[318] 


THE    BALANCE 


are  unanswerable  arguments.  As  far  as  our  plant  is 
concerned,  my  hardest  work  is  over ;  and  as  for  spread- 
ing the  gospel  of  good  will  in  industry,  we  are  already 
flooded  by  inquiries  from  big  organizations  all  over  the 
country.  Instead  of  going  out  into  the  world  to  preach 
it,  I  can  point  to  actual  performance ;  instead  of  argu- 
ing on  the  basis  of  theory,  I  can  show  how  practical 
it  is  in  operation." 

"Then  it  won't  be  necessary  after  all  for  you  to 
sacrifice  your  whole  life  to  your  ideals,  will  it  ?" 

Richard  looked  at  her  questioningly.  Then  he 
thought  he  understood.  Smiling,  he  took  her  hand  in 
his. 

"I  must  have  seemed  selfish  to  you  these  months,  dear, 
but  I  really  felt  it  necessary  to  forget  everything  but 
that  great  common  cause  we  both  believe  in.  Perhaps 
I  seemed  more  selfish  than  I  really  was,  because  I  knew 
you  understood.  But  we  have  gained  our  first  objective 
now,  Lola  dear,  without  any  casualties,  and  we  can  be 
ourselves  again.  You  have  never  doubted,  .  .  have 
you?  .  .  that  my  love  for  you  was  stronger  than  every- 
thing else  except  my  duty  to  translate  my  vision  and 
my  experience  into  something  real  ?" 

"No,  Dick,"  she  answered  frankly.  "I  have  never 
doubted  that ;  but  I'm  not  quite  so  sure  that  there  have 
been  no  casualties." 

He  looked  at  her  surprised. 

"But  you  have  understood?" 

"Yes,"  Lola  replied  deliberately ;  "I  have  understood, 
.  .  better,  I  fear  than  you.    How  about  Olga?" 

Richard's  face  sobered. 

[319] 


THE    BALANCE 


"Surely  you  could  never  be  jealous  of  her!  That 
wouldn't  be  like  you.     I've  never  .  ." 

"Not  jealous,  Dick.  You  might  break  my  heart,  but 
you  could  never  make  me  jealous.  There  are  some 
things  you  haven't  sensed  because  you  have  been  so 
engrossed  with  your  work.  Olga  loves  you,  Dick,  and 
she  is  suffering  more  than  you  have  any  right  to  let 
her  suffer." 

For  a  moment  he  looked  at  her  with  an  expression 
Lola  had  never  before  seen.  She  expected  him  to  insist 
again  that  she  was  wrong,  but  this  time  there  was  no 
such  protest.  Instead,  he  rose  and  went  to  the  window, 
looking  out  into  the  darkness.  What  he  saw  was  a  pair 
of  great  brown  eyes,  glistening  from  unshed  tears,  lips 
which  quivered  as  they  bravely  smiled.  What  he  heard 
was  not  Lola's  words,  but  a  voice  struggling  to  conceal 
the  love  which  found  expression  in  every  accent,  crying, 
"Oh,  Richard,  .  .  you  must  go!  I  cannot  stand  it 
any  longer!" 

At  last  he  turned. 

"You  are  right,  Lola,"  he  acknowledged,  to  her  sur- 
prise. "I  realize  it  now,  but  my  knowledge  has  come  late, 
Heaven  knows !  I  did  look  upon  her  as  a  child.  Even 
when  I  first  noticed  that  her  affection  for  me  seemed 
to  ask  for  possession,  I  thought  it  nothing  more  than  a 
child's  desire  for  a  new  toy.  Since  I  unexpectedly  dis- 
covered the  real  situation  I  have  thought  of  little  else, 
for  I  care  for  her  a  great  deal,  and  I  am  eternally 
grateful.  I  have  told  her  frankly  .  .  .  almost  brutally 
.  .  .  that  I  do  not  love  her.  She  is  wounded  .  .  . 
naturally,  and  I  blame  myself  for  my  stupidity.    There 

[320] 


THE    BALANCE 


is  so  little  one  can  do.  For  one  thing,  I  mean  to  give 
her  every  opportunity  to  make  something  of  herself, 
but  that  doesn't  take  away  her  present  pain.  Yet  what 
more  can  I  do?" 

"Of  course,  I  am  looking  at  it  from  a  woman's  stand- 
point," Lola  replied.  "Perhaps  that  is  all  you  can  do, 
.  .  perhaps  it  is  more  than  you  ought  to  do  .  .  .  but 
I'm  wondering  if  we  are  holding  true  to  the  creed  you 
and  I  boast.  You  have  accepted  everything,  and  given 
nothing  in  return.  We  must  be  true  to  our  creed,  no 
matter  what  the  cost.     Don't  you  think  so?" 

"Are  you  suggesting  that  I  ought  to  marry  Olga?" 

"I'm  not  sure  ...  I  am  groping  in  the  dark  .  .  . 
I'm  asking  you." 

Richard  rose  again  and  walked  slowly  about  the  room 
as  he  always  did  when  deeply  affected.  Lola  watched 
him  with  a  look  in  her  eyes  which,  had  he  seen,  would 
have  made  his  question  unnecessary. 

"Does  this  mean  that  you  no  longer  care  for  me?" 

"I  don't  believe  that  enters  into  the  question,  dear," 
she  answered  with  more  feeling  than  she  had  allowed  her- 
self to  show.  "You  were  speaking  of  the  casualties  in 
attaining  your  objective.  It  may  be  that  I  am  one 
of  these,  it  may  be  that  it  is  Olga.  I'm  not  making 
any  statement,  Dick;  I'm  just  placing  the  matter 
squarely  before  you.  Your  final  judgment  will  be 
right." 

He  returned  to  the  chair  where  Lola  was  sitting 
and  seated  himself  upon  the  arm.  All  resentment  had 
disappeared,  for  he  realized  how  much  in  earnest  she 
was.    Knowing  her  as  he  did,  he  could  but  admire  the 

[321] 


THE    BALANCE 


courage  and  the  sacrifice  which  lay  behind  her  words. 
As  he  looked  at  her,  she  seemed  the  embodiment  of  that 
spirit  which  was  the  single  worth-while  product  of  the 
war.  In  France,  she  would  have  sacrificed  herself  will- 
ingly for  her  ideal;  tonight  she  was  no  less  willing. 
There  remained  no  question  in  his  mind  of  her  love  for 
him,  .  .  and  in  his  own  heart  he  discovered  a  longing 
for  her  which  was  beyond  anything  which  had  come  into 
his  life.  He  was  conscious  of  the  thought  that  had 
this  overpowering  love  possessed  him  earlier,  he  might 
not  have  been  strong  enough  to  put  it  aside  even  for 
the  great  common  cause. 

"Lola,"  he  said  quietly,  but  with  such  intensity  in 
his  voice  that  there  could  be  no  misunderstanding  him, 
"you  are  wonderful !  I  have  always  loved  you.  I  have 
never  had  a  place  in  my  heart  for  any  one  else ;  but  until 
now  I  have  not  known  how  much  you  really  meant  to  me. 
You  and  I  have  been  through  experiences  which  would 
never  have  come  to  us  except  with  the  whole  world  up- 
side down.  I  thought  I  had  kept  on  my  feet  better 
than  most  people,  but  I,  too,  have  been  affected  by  the 
madness.  You  have  been  steadfast,  you  have  been  true 
to  every  ideal.  When  I  wavered,  you  steadied  me,  .  . 
and  I  thought  it  my  own  strength !  What  place  can  you 
have  in  your  life  for  one  who  assumed  attributes  to 
which  he  had  no  shadow  of  a  claim?" 

"Oh,  Dick !"  she  cried ;  "you  make  it  so  hard  for  me ! 
Whatever  the  cost  may  be  to  us,  we  must  think  of  Olga, 
who  has  had  nothing  but  sacrifice  in  her  life.  You  gave 
her  a  new  horizon.  You  made  life  for  her  something  be- 
yond anything  she  knew  or  craved  before.    We  must  be 

[322] 


THE    BALANCE 


fair.  But,  Dick,  .  .  O  Dick,  my  darling!  .  .  don't 
ever  think  I  don't  love  you!  It  is  because  our  love 
must  be  worthy  of  what  you  and  I  know  love  ought  to 
be,  that  we  must  think  of  her." 

Richard  again  rose  and  walked  back  and  forth  trying 
to  think  of  some  solution  of  the  problem. 

"I  can't  believe  that  happiness  could  come  to  her 
through  anything  that  brought  misery  to  us,"  he  said 
soberly,  at  length.  "We  must  take  time  to  think  it  out. 
Surely  there  is  some  way  other  than  that  which  wrecks 
our  lives  just  as  we  have  discovered  what  they  might 
contain." 

"I  hope  so,  Dick !  .  .  oh !  my  very  dear,  I  hope  so !" 

Richard  held  out  his  arms  to  her  with  such  yearning 
in  his  face  that  she  could  no  longer  resist. 

"This  at  least  is  our  moment  .  .  .  Come !" 

Without  taking  her  eyes  from  his,  she  rose  slowly 
from  the  chair  and  permitted  him  to  fold  her  in  his 
great  arms. 

"It  is  this  that  counts !"  he  whispered. 

The  anxious  lines  disappeared  from  Lola's  face. 
She  yielded  herself  wholly  to  the  joy  of  the  moment,  de- 
liberately forgetting  that  it  was  but  a  haven  she  had 
found  and  not  the  port  where  she  might  gain  protection 
from  the  storm.  She  raised  her  eyes  shyly,  and  smiled 
into  his.     Then  their  lips  met. 

"Oh,  Dick!"  she  cried  as  he  released  her,  .  .  "my 
Dick  .  .  .  always  .  .  .  whatever  happens !" 


[323] 


CHAPTER     XXXIV 


RICHARD  found  Olga  in  the  little  flat  which  he 
had  turned  over  for  her  occupancy.  She  heard 
the  familiar  footsteps  upon  the  stairs,  and 
when  Richard  reached  the  top  landing  she  was  waiting 
for  him  in  the  open  doorway.  In  her  face  pleasure 
mingled  with  apprehension. 

"You  recognized  my  step?"  Richard  inquired,  sur- 
prised now  to  find  her  there. 

"Is  there  anything  strange  in  that?"  she  asked,  not 
defiantly,  as  had  been  her  wont,  but  with  a  sad,  wistful 
smile  which  hurt  him.  "I  wondered  if  I  should  ever 
hear  it  again." 

"Surely  you  could  never  believe  that,  after  being  such 
comrades,  I  would  let  you  drop  out  of  my  life !" 

"You  will  be  a  great  man,  Mr.  Richard  Norton,  and 
a  factory-girl  does  not  belong  in  the  life  of  a  great 
man." 

They  entered  the  room  and  seated  themselves.  Both 
felt  the  restraint,  and  Olga  made  no  effort  to  relieve  it. 

"When  I  say  to  you  what  I  have  come  to  say,"  Rich- 
ard replied  seriously,  "you  will  understand  how  far  I 
am  from  the  exhalted  position  you  suggest,  and  you  will 

[324] 


THE    BALANCE 


also  realize  how  much  a  part  of  my  life  I  consider  one 
little  factory-girl,  who  is  not  very  distant  now." 

She  waited  for  him  to  continue. 

"Until  we  talked  things  over  that  last  time,"  he  went 
on,  "I  was  not  convinced  that  you  seriously  cared  for 
me  .  .    » 

"I  told  you  so,  over  and  over  again." 

"I  know  you  did,  and  I  should  have  believed  you. 
Instead,  I  thought  it  was  just  your  way  of  saying  that 
you  liked  me." 

"I  promised  you  that  I  would  try  to  turn  my  love 
back  into  friendship,"  Olga  reminded  him,  striving 
bravely  to  prevent  her  voice  from  breaking.  "Truly, 
I  am  doing  my  best  to  keep  my  promise." 

"Dear  Olga!"  Richard  cried,  affected  by  her  strug- 
gle.    "It  is  for  me  to  turn  my  friendship  into  love." 

She  looked  at  him  with  uncomprehending  eyes.  She 
had  changed  even  since  he  saw  her  last.  Her  face  was 
still  beautiful,  but  it  lacked  the  color  which  had  previ- 
ously added  so  great  a  charm.  Yet  it  was  not  the  face 
which  had  changed  so  much  as  her  manner.  The  hoy- 
denish  abandon  had  disappeared  long  since.  Now  she 
displayed  a  calm  self-control  he  scarcely  recognized. 
She  sensed  what  was  passing  through  his  mind. 

"Is  it  an  improvement?"  she  asked.  "If  you  blame 
yourself  for  some  things  you  must  take  credit  for 
others.  As  for  my  loving  you  .  .  .  Miss  Lola  has  for- 
given me,  and  so  must  you." 

"Don't,  Olga,  I  beg  of  you!"  he  cried.  "You  and 
Lola  make  me  feel  contemptibly  small  when  you  assume 
responsibility  which  belongs  to  me.     I  can  never  repay 

[325] 


THE    BALANCE 


you  for  what  you  did  for  me,  yet  in  return  I  have  made 
you  unhappy  .  .  .  the  one  thing  I  would  have  avoided !" 

He  hesitated  for  an  instant,  then  asked  the  question 
abruptly. 

"Do  you  think  you  could  really  be  happy  as  my  wife, 
Olga?" 

For  a  moment  surprise  filled  her  eyes,  then  all  the 
color  which  Richard  missed  returned  to  her  face. 

"Did  Miss  Lola  tell  you  to  ask  me  that  ?"  she  inquired 
at  length. 

"No ;  she  urged  me  to  decide,  and  I  have  done  so." 

"Does  that  mean  that  you  love  me  ?" 

The  momentary  hesitation  gave  her  a  truer  answer 
than  the  evasive  words  which  followed. 

"There  would  be  no  question  of  that,  dear,  if  we  were 
married." 

The  look  which  came  into  Olga's  face  was  that  which 
Richard  would  always  remember  when  he  thought  of 
her  in  later  years.  He  had  called  her  beautiful,  but 
never  had  she  seemed  so  radiantly  lovely.  Her  eyes 
never  left  his,  and  into  them  came  a  look  .  .  .  inscrut- 
able as  it  was  tender,  .  .  which  he  had  seen  before  only 
in  the  eyes  of  Mona  Lisa. 

"Then  you  have  discovered  that  you  can  be  married 
and  still  accomplish  your  great  work?"  she  inquired. 

"I  know  now  that  I  can't  possibly  accomplish  it  un- 
less I  am." 

"And  you  will  marry  me  ?" 

"Yes,  Olga;  and  I  will  do  my  best  to  make  you 
happy." 

The  girl  again  relapsed  into  silence.  The  moment 
[326] 


THE    BALANCE 


was  too  delicious  to  be  hastened.  Her  dream  had  come 
true!  What  others  had  mocked  at  was  within  her 
grasp.  All  that  was  necessary  would  be  to  forget 
what  these  last  months  had  taught  her,  and  to  justify 
herself  by  declaring,  with  her  former  fierceness,  that 
the  buffeting  old  world  owed  her  anything  she  could  get 
out  of  it  in  compensation  for  the  price  it  had  made 
her  pay. 

But  forgetfulness  was  not  possible  after  the  lessons 
learned  from  her  association  with  Lola.  Previously,  it 
would  have  been  class  against  class ;  now  it  was  one 
woman's  heart  against  another's.  Lola,  surrounded 
by  every  luxury,  who  had  never  been  forced  to  practice 
the  self-restraint  which  formed  a  part  of  Olga's  daily 
life,  stood  ready  to  make  the  supremest  sacrifice  a 
woman  knows.  Olga  had  not  believed  this  at  first;  it 
was  too  incredible.  Later,  as  she  came  to  understand 
her  better  through  Lola's  determination  to  protect  her, 
she  was  convinced  of  her  sincerity.  Now  that  Richard 
had  come  with  his  offer  of  marriage,  she  knew  that 
Lola's  words  were  as  true  as  her  heart.  If  a  girl 
brought  up  as  she  had  been  could  prove  herself  so  loyal 
to  her  ideals,  what  of  Olga,  to  whom  sacrifice  had  be- 
come second  nature? 

There  was  but  one  more  question  which  she  put 
to   Richard. 

"Do  you  love  Miss  Lola?" 

It  was  one  he  could  not  answer  by  evasion.  The 
great  brown  eyes,  looking  so  tenderly  and  trustfully 
into  his,  demanded  an  admission  of  the  truth  which 
they  already  knew. 

[327] 


THE    BALANCE 


"You  know  that  I  have  always  loved  her,  Olga.  I 
have  told  you  so  before ;  but  that  does  not  mean  that  I 
am  less  honest  in  asking  you  to  be  my  wife." 

Olga  knew  now  beyond  a  doubt  that  the  words  she 
longed  to  hear  could  never  be  spoken.  She  was  grateful 
to  him  that  he  had  given  her  the  opportunity  of  hear- 
ing his  declaration.  She  would  like  to  believe  that  if 
there  had  been  no  "Stewart  lady"  he  might  have  loved 
her,  yet,  except  for  Lola,  Olga  was  well  aware  that  the 
present  situation  had  been  an  impossibility.  She  had 
acknowledged  to  herself  long  since  that  Richard  and 
Lola  were  truly  mated ;  now  she  knew  well  that  to  come 
between  them  would  be  to  wreck  three  lives  instead 
of  one. 

"Something  good  must  come  from  our  friendship, 
Richard,"  she  said  to  him.  "My  life  began  that  day 
at  East  Lake.  It  is  like  Miss  Lola  to  say  to  you  what 
she  did  say ;  it  is  like  you  to  give  up  what  you  know 
is  best  for  yourself  in  trying  to  make  me  happy.  It 
is  not  like  me  to  refuse  to  accept  what  would  be  my 
greatest  joy,  and  because  I  am  doing  what  is  so  unlike 
me,  you  can  believe  that  my  friendship  is  even  stronger 
than  you  knew  .  .  .  We  must  not  talk  of  marriage. 
You  do  not  love  me,  yet  you  ask  me  to  be  your  wife; 
because  I  do  love  you,  I  do  not  accept.  I  am  glad  you 
have  discovered  that  there  is  something  greater  than 
your  work,  for  even  I  knew  that  long  ago!  Go  back 
to  Miss  Lola  and  tell  her  that  you  have  done  your  duty, 
and  that  in  doing  it  you  have  made  me  happy.  Tell 
her  that  I  love  her  for  what  she  has  done  for  me,  just 
as  I  love  you  for  what  you  have  tried  to  do." 

[328] 


THE    BALANCE 


"But  what  of  you?"  Richard  demanded,  deeply  af- 
fected by  this  display  of  a  nobility  of  character  which 
he  had  not  realized  she  possessed. 

"So  long  as  you  are  happy,  I  shall  also  be  happy," 
the  girl  replied  simply.  "I  will  believe  that  somewhere 
in  the  world  there  is  a  place  for  me.  You  will  be  a 
great  man,  Richard  Norton,  and  people  will  clap  their 
hands  and  shout  your  praises.  But  you  must  not  for- 
get your  little  comrade.  Far  away  from  the  crowd, 
around  the  corner,  even  though  you  cannot  hear  her, 
she  will  be  shouting  your  praises  too." 

II 

Their  conversation  was  interrupted  by  a  sudden 
knock  at  the  door.  Without  waiting  for  it  to  be  an- 
swered, Tony  Lemholtz  entered,  and  stood  on  the  thres- 
hold leering  at  them. 

"So  you're  back  again,  are  you?"  he  said  unsteadily 
to  Richard.  "Can't  keep  away  from  her  even  if  you 
are  a  great  man  now,  can  you?" 

Olga  placed  a  restraining  hand  on  Richard's  arm 
as  he  rose  with  dangerous  calmness. 

"You  have  been  drinking  again,"  she  charged  Lem- 
holtz. 

"S'all  right,"  he  retorted  thickly.  "I'm  not  goin'  to 
start  anythin'  .  .  .  yet.  Want  to  talk  business  with 
the  big  boss." 

"I'll  see  you  at  the  office  in  the  morning,"  Richard 
told  him. 

"You'll  see  me  here  .  .  .  right  now,"  Tony  cor- 
[329] 


THE    BALANCE 


rected  .  .  .  "I've  been  fired.     What  you  goin'  to  do 
about  it?" 

"You  can  refer  the  matter  to  the  Shop  Committee 
if  you  think  an  injustice  has  been  done  you,"  Richard 
answered,  restraining  his  resentment  at  the  man's  inso- 
lence to  Olga  as  well  as  to  himself. 

"I've  done  that,  and  they've  decided  against  me. 
Now  it's  up  to  you." 

"No,"  Richard  replied;  "you  still  have  the  privilege 
of  appealing  to  the  General  Joint  Committee  on  Ad- 
justment." 

"Appeal  nothin'!"  Tony  exclaimed.  "The  Shop 
Committee  was  unanimous  against  me,  so  I  can't  ap- 
peal." 

"Then  that  ends  it,"  Richard  remarked  with  finality. 
"You  have  been  tried  by  your  fellow-workers  and  con- 
victed.    What  more  can  you  ask?" 

"You  can  put  me  back  if  you  like  .  .  .  you  can. 
You're  the  head  of  the  whole  shebang,  ain't  you  ?  Now, 
will  you  or  won't  you?" 

"I  certainly  will  not,"  Richard  declared  flatly.  "If 
the  men  had  voted  to  let  you  stay,  I  would  have  ac- 
cepted the  decision.  As  they  didn't,  you  will  have  to 
do  the  same  .  .  .  Come.  If  that's  what  you're  here 
for,  let's  go  along  together,  and  leave  Olga  in  peace." 

"I'm  not  going,  and  you're  not  going  .  .  .  yet." 

Lemholtz  half-sang  the  words,  standing  in  front  of 
the  door  with  legs  well  apart,  assuming  a  belligerent 
attitude. 

"Go  along  with  Mr.  Richard,"  Olga  urged,  "and 
come  back  when  you're  sober." 

[330] 


THE    BALANCE 


"Mister  Richard !"  he  repeated  after  her  .  .  .  "Mis- 
ter Richard !  Now  I  ain't  in  his  employ  I  can  tell  him 
what  I  damn  think  of  him,  can't  I?  Think  you  can  take 
my  girl  and  play  with  her  till  you  get  tired,  and  then 
throw  her  over,  do  you?" 

"Don't  pay  any  attention  to  him,"  Olga  begged 
Richard.  "He's  half-drunk,  and  he's  always  ugly 
when  he's  this  way." 

"It's  all  right,  Olga,"  Richard  reassured  her.  "I 
just  want  to  get  him  out  of  here  so  that  he  won't  annoy 
you." 

"Want  to  get  me  out,  do  you?"  Tony  overheard 
a  part  of  the  conversation.  "All  right,  .  .  try  it  .  .  . 
Can't  be  done." 

Richard  paid  no  attention  to  him,  but  turned  to  Olga. 

"I  am  responsible  even  for  this  brute's  insults  to 
you,"  he  said  contritely.  "We  can't  finish  our  talk  to- 
night, but  we  must  do  so  soon.  I'm  not  satisfied  to 
leave  it  here." 

"Leave  what  .  .  .  where?"  Lemholtz  demanded. 

"There's  nothing  more  to  say,"  she  whispered,  not 
heeding  the  interruption.  "Why  leave  it  open  .  .  . 
for  all  our  sakes?" 

"A  little  later,"  Richard  insisted  gently;  "you  and 
Lola  and  I."    Then  he  turned  to  Lemholtz. 

"Come  on,"  he  said.  "I'll  see  you  home  and  in  bed 
where  you  can  sober  up." 

"Can't  be  done,"  Tony  repeated.  "Touch  me,  and 
I'll  kill  you !" 

Richard  dodged  the  blow  aimed  at  him,  and  caught 
his  antagonist  firmly  around  the  waist,  pinioning  his 

[331] 


THE    BALANCE 


arms  so  that  he  was  absolutely  helpless.  Then  he 
swung  him  over  his  shoulder,  holding  him  with  a  grip 
against  which  Tony's  struggles  were  in  vain. 

"Open  the  door,  Olga." 

Richard  laughed  aloud  at  the  ridiculousness  of  the 
situation. 

"I'll  take  this  naughty  boy  home  and  spank  him 
.  .  .  Good  night." 

Olga  did  not  share  his  mirth.  She  could  see  the 
vindictive  hatred  on  the  swarthy  face,  and  it  fright- 
ened her. 

"Be  careful,  Richard,"  she  implored.  "He  dislikes 
you  enough  already." 

"Dislike  him?"  Lemholtz  muttered,  exhausted  by  his 
fruitless  struggle.  "Dislike  him?  .  .  I  hate  him,  that's 
what  I  do  .  .  .  He'd  better  be  careful  .  .  .  I'll  get 
him  yet!" 


[332] 


CHAPTER     XXXV 


THE  PLAN  of  factory  representation  was  work- 
ing out  so  well  that  Richard  almost  dreaded 
to  accept  congratulations  for  fear  that  some- 
thing unforeseen  might  happen  to  prove  his  structure 
only  a  house  of  cards.  It  was  not  perfect  by  any  means. 
Every  day  showed  some  change  necessary  to  hold  the 
scheme  true  to  the  basic  principles  upon  which  it  stood ; 
but  the  foundation  still  seemed  unassailable,  and  that 
gave  Richard  confidence.  The  men  at  once  recognized 
the  spirit  of  fair  play  and  were  convinced  that  they 
would  receive  a  square  deal,  with  nothing  counting  but 
the  facts. 

"It  is  always  a  case  of  cards  down  face  up,"  one  of 
the  workers  explained.  "Nothing  is  hidden,  and  we 
all  know  what  the  other  fellow  knows." 

The  prompt  establishment  of  this  confidence  nulli- 
fied the  opposition  of  the  union  heads,  who  saw  their 
prestige  wane  as  the  management  and  the  workers  be- 
came educated  to  each  other's  point  of  view.  There 
could  be  little  talk  of  collective  bargaining  when  every 
question  of  joint  interest  became  co-operative  and  the 
subject  of  mutual  deliberation.    The  men  frankly  liked 

[333] 


THE    BALANCE 


it.  They  had  come  to  see  that  the  union  kept  all  its 
men  on  a  dead  level  while  the  new  system  gave  the 
opportunity  for  any  one  to  rise  above  it  who  possessed 
more  than  average  ability.  They  retained  their  mem- 
bership cards,  for  the  union  found  no  vulnerable  point 
at  which  to  strike.  Certain  it  was  that  the  new  spirit 
of  co-operation  and  fair  play  worked  to  smooth  out 
situations  which  under  old  methods  would  have  resulted 
in  serious  trouble. 

Tony  Lemholtz  was  a  case  in  point.  He  had  been 
a  trouble-maker  from  the  time  he  entered  the  plant; 
yet  not  even  James  Norton  dared  to  discharge  him  be- 
cause of  his  power  as  a  labor  leader.  Now,  when  he 
transgressed  the  rules  of  his  department,  the  foreman 
fearlessly  exercised  his  prerogative.  Lemholtz  de- 
manded justice,  and  was  tried  before  a  tribunal  made 
up  equally  of  representatives  from  the  management  and 
those  duly  elected  by  the  workers.  The  foreman  became 
the  plaintiff,  and  witnesses  were  called  on  both  sides. 
With  all  the  evidence  before  them,  the  Shop  Committee 
unanimously  sustained  the  action  of  the  foreman,  and, 
being  unanimous,  the  incident  was  closed.  Had  there 
been  only  a  majority-ruling  against  him,  Lemholtz 
might  have  appealed,  but  as  it  stood  even  the  General 
Manager  would  hesitate  to  reinstate  him. 

Richard  reviewed  the  case  with  considerable  satisfac- 
tion as  he  continued  his  walk  after  depositing  the  unwill- 
ing burden  at  his  lodgings.  He  had  been  confident  that 
the  foreman  would  be  upheld,  yet  the  case  had  been  a 
real  test  of  the  strength  of  the  new  system.  There 
could  be  no  failure,  he  was  sure,  so  long  as  the  manage- 

[334] 


THE    BALANCE 


ment  maintained  their  faith  in  the  workers,  for  it  was 
human  nature  that  the  men  should  share  the  same  re- 
action. 

n 

Richard  had  still  further  basis  for  confidence.  In 
another  fortnight  a  new  administration  would  be  in- 
augurated at  Washington  ...  a  new  President,  who 
had  already  indicated  by  his  utterances  and  by  the  men 
selected  to  be  his  advisors  that  he  recognized  the  mag- 
nitude of  his  task,  and  the  presumption  of  any  mortal 
to  appropriate  to  himself  omnipotence.  It  was  too 
soon  to  judge  except  by  the  calibre  of  the  outstanding 
figures,  but  Richard  felt  in  his  heart  an  abiding  faith 
that  party  politics  would  now  give  way  to  the  humani- 
tarian demands  created  by  the  war ;  that  the  academic 
atmosphere  in  the  White  House  would  become  charged 
with  the  vitality  of  constructive  action;  that  his  coun- 
try, for  which  he  fought,  would  regain  the  prestige  won 
by  the  spontaneous  response  of  its  people,  and  lost 
by  the  supine  misrepresentation  of  its  government. 
Barry's  words  came  back  to  him  .  .  .  "We  mustn't  lose 
faith  in  our  country  .  .  .  the  trouble  isn't  with  our 
country,  is  it,  Capt'n?"  Richard  held  his  head  erect 
for  the  first  time  since  he  returned  home  .  .  .  No,  thank 
God!  the  trouble  is  not  with  our  country! 

Ill 

Lola  came  to  the  plant  the  following  day  with  her 
father.  She  was  sure  that  Richard  would  seek  Olga  at 
the  first  opportunity,  and  concluded  that  the  interview 

[335] 


THE    BALANCE 


must  have  taken  place.  She  was  so  fearful  of  the  effect 
on  both  that  she  could  not  wait  for  Richard  to  come  to 
her.  Mr.  Stewart's  conference  with  him  gave  her  the 
opportunity  to  relieve  her  anxiety,  and  she  knew  her 
presence  would  be  no  embarrassment. 

"I've  just  been  over  the  figures  for  the  last  period," 
Stewart  remarked  when  they  were  seated  in  Richard's 
office.  "You  ought  to  feel  well  satisfied  with  the  re- 
sults." 

"I  do,"  was  the  frank  acknowledgement.  "That  we 
are  getting  increased  production  is  beyond  question. 
But  what  I  am  most  pleased  with  is  the  fact  that  we 
all  are  becoming  educated.  Never  before  did  we  know 
so  well  the  actual  conditions  in  the  plant,  never  before 
have  the  workers  so  well  understood  our  problems.  Pre- 
viously we  could  make  mistakes  and  get  away  with  them ; 
now  if  we  are  unjust,  or  use  poor  judgment,  we  are 
shown  up  without  mercy.  On  the  other  hand,  no  opera- 
tive can  give  less  than  a  fair  day's  work  for  a  fair  day's 
pay  without  having  the  fact  so  apparent  that  he  is 
ashamed  of  it." 

"I  believe  even  your  father  would  be  convinced  if  he 
could  see  things  now." 

"I  know  he  would,"  Richard  declared  decisively.  "All 
father  wanted  was  results,  but  because  he  had  always 
secured  them  in  one  particular  way  he  couldn't  accept 
any  other  method.  I  give  him  credit  for  much  of  this 
success.  It  would  be  unbelievable  that,  after  giving  his 
entire  personality  to  this  concern  for  so  many  years,  he 
could  be  disassociated  by  anything  so  incidental  as 
death.     This  will  always  be  James  Norton's  business; 

[336] 


THE    BALANCE 


all  we  are  doing  is  adding  modern  improvements  to  a 
structure  already  built  on  a  rock." 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  you  speak  like  that,"  Stewart 
replied  soberly.  "My  friendship  with  your  father  ex- 
tended over  so  many  years  that  to  have  had  a  break 
come  at  the  end  is  still  a  real  sorrow.  I  would  like  to 
believe  with  you  that  he  knows  now  that  our  difference 
was  only  that  of  method.  When  one  reaches  my  age 
friendships  become  sacred." 

"You  may  believe  it  .  .  .  surely,"  Richard  declared 
with  emphasis ;  "and  I  look  upon  my  friendship  with  you 
as  another  legacy  from  him.  It  will  mean  much  to  me 
to  have  you  think  of  it  as  a  continuation  of  the  old." 

Richard  felt  Mr.  Stewart's  smile  to  be  a  benediction. 

"I  shall  so  consider  it,"  the  older  man  replied,  .  . 
"until  I  have  the  right  to  give  you  that  deeper  affec- 
tion to  which  a  son  is  entitled." 

"I  hope  that  time  may  not  be  far  distant,"  Richard 
exclaimed,  holding  out  his  hand  impulsively.  "Lola 
knows  how  much  that  hope  means  to  me ;  she  also  knows 
that  there  still  remains  one  obstacle  to  overcome.  We 
are  working  on  that  now." 

"I  don't  mean  to  interfere,"  Stewart  apologized. 
"You  young  people  have  fully  demonstrated  your  abil- 
ity to  look  after  your  own  affairs  .  .  .  Lola  came  to- 
day to  see  some  of  the  changes  I  told  her  had  been  made 
in  the  plant."  , 

"Let  me  show  them  to  you  both  a  little  later." 

"I  have  some  letters  to  dictate,"  Stewart  continued. 
"Lola  and  I  will  be  waiting  in  my  office  when  you  are 
ready." 

[337] 


THE    BALANCE 


"Can  you  spare  her  for  a  few  moments?"  Richard 
asked. 

"Willingly  ...  to  you,"  the  older  man  answered 
as  he  rose  and  left  them  to  themselves. 

IV 

"You  have  seen  her?"  Lola  asked  eagerly  as  the 
door  closed. 

Richard  drew  a  chair  beside  hers. 

"I  have  surely  made  a  mess  of  things,"  he  replied 
bluntly.  "While  I  have  been  analyzing  this  problem  of 
industrial  relations,  I  have  completely  overlooked  a 
greater  human  problem  under  my  very  eyes.  By  my 
inconsistency  I  have  proved  my  right  to  be  classed 
among  the  so-called  reformers!  Unless  we  can 
straighten  this  out  in  fairness  to  Olga,  I  shall  be  a 
failure  after  all." 

"We  can  always  make  our  sacrifice,  Dick,"  Lola 
said  seriously,  but  her  voice  broke  as  she  spoke. 

"We  can't  even  do  that,"  he  corrected  her.  "Olga 
has  seen  the  situation  from  the  beginning  far  more 
clearly  than  we  have.  She  saw  through  my  conceited 
platitude  that  my  work  was  the  greatest  thing  on  earth. 
She  knew  that  my  love  for  you  was  bigger  than  anything 
else  in  my  life  even  when  I  questioned  it  myself,  and 
she  has  never  doubted  that  it  would  assert  itself  when 
I  finally  came  to  my  senses." 

"But  she  loves  you,  Dick." 

"The  more  blame  to  me  ...  I  have  offered  to  marry 
her,  Lola.  I  felt  it  to  be  my  duty.  I  tried  to  conceal 
the  fact  that  there  can  be  no  one  in  my  heart  but  you. 

[338] 


THE    BALANCE 


She  will  have  none  of  it.  Hers  is  a  big  nature,  and  its 
strength  appals  me.  It  is  Olga  who  dominates  the  sit- 
uation today,  and  in  the  end  we  must  do  as  she  insists." 

"We  can't  accept  our  happiness  at  her  expense, 
Dick." 

"What  can  we  do  ?"  he  asked  helplessly. 

"Is  she  in  the  works  now?" 

"I  suppose  she  is  in  her  department.  We  can  see 
as  we  go  through  the  plant." 

"Get  her  up  to  the  house  tonight,  Dick,  and  we  three 
will  talk  things  over." 

"Very  well,"  he  assented  .  .  .  "Shall  we  start  now? 
Your  father  must  be  ready  by  this  time." 


Stewart  had  explained  to  Lola  the  physical  changes 
which  had  been  made  in  the  works  as  part  of  the  new 
scheme.  Every  machine  was  now  located  so  that  the 
light  fell  upon  the  work  from  the  proper  angle;  the 
sequence  of  the  machines  was  arranged  to  conform  with 
the  natural  order  of  the  processes;  everything  was  so 
planned  as  to  eliminate  waste  energy  and  to  preserve 
the  comfort  and  well-being  of  the  workers. 

"I  feel  every  throb  of  this  machinery,"  Richard 
remarked  as  the  three  walked  through  the  various  de- 
partments. "Think  of  the  power  which  lies  behind  it! 
I  am  always  impressed  that  it  is  trying  to  convey  a 
message  which  I  can't  understand  because  I  am  ignorant 
of  its  language." 

"I  should  say  that  its  song  now  was  'Good  Will  in 
Industry,'  "  Stewart  suggested. 

[339] 


THE    BALANCE 


"Listen,"  Lola  added,  .  .  "  'All  have  a  chance,  all 
have  a  chance,'  .  .  that's  what  it  is  saying!" 

"Whatever  it  is,"  Richard  continued,  "it  does  seem 
to  have  a  kindlier  tone  now  than  formerly ;  still,  I  dread 
it.  There  is  something  so  inexorable  about  it.  Prop- 
erly controlled,  it  serves  mankind,  but  we  can  take 
no  liberties  with  it.  Its  power  seems  lurking  behind  each 
throb,  jealously  watching  every  human  action,  and 
ready  to  punish  the  foolhardy  mortal  who  dares  to 
match  his  strength  against  it  .  .  .  This  is  the  depart- 
ment where  Olga  works,  Lola  .  .  .  There  she  is  .  .  . 
over  there  at  her  machine." 

As  the  girl  saw  them  approaching  she  gave  them  a 
brave  smile,  but  continued  with  her  work.  Richard 
signaled  to  stop  the  machine. 

"Will  you  come  up  to  the  house  this  evening?"  Lola 
asked  her  quietly. 

"Please,  Olga,"  Richard  added  as  he  saw  her  hesitate. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  evidently  with  an  effort;  "I  will 
come." 

VI 

As  Richard  turned,  a  wild-eyed  figure  suddenly  stood 
in  front  of  him,  rising  out  of  nowhere.  Before  he  real- 
ized it,  Tony  Lemholtz,  maddened  beyond  reason  by 
the  continuation  of  his  drunken  orgy,  was  upon  him. 

"Now  I've  got  you,  Mister  Richard  Norton,"  he 
snarled,  his  face  twitching  with  demoniacal  fury.  "You 
are  bigger  than  I  am,  and  you  are  strong  enough  to 
truss  me  up  on  your  shoulder  like  a  pig,  as  you  did  last 
night,  but  here's  a  little  argument  which  makes  us  even." 

[340] 


THE    BALANCE 


As  he  spoke  he  threw  himself  at  Richard  with  a  knife 
gleaming  in  his  hand,  but  before  the  blow  reached  its 
objective  a  slight  form  intervened,  and  Olga's  back 
received  the  slender  blade.  As  she  slipped  to  the 
ground,  Lemholtz  dropped  the  knife,  and  ran  to  escape 
the  angry  cries  of  pursuing  workmen. 

"Get  the  nurse  .  .  .  quick!"  Richard  cried. 

Then,  seeing  that  he  could  do  nothing  beyond  what 
Lola  had  already  done  for  the  still  figure  in  her  arms, 
he  joined  in  the  pursuit. 

In  and  out  among  the  machinery  ran  the  fleeing  man, 
sobered  by  the  excitement,  yet  none  too  steady  on  his 
feet.  As  he  turned  a  corner,  he  came  face  to  face  with 
another  infuriated  group,  and  in  dodging  them  plunged 
headlong  into  a  mass  of  belting  which  controlled  a  bat- 
tery of  machines.  With  a  shriek  of  agonized  fear,  Lem- 
holtz was  seized  by  the  slow  but  endless  movement  of  the 
giant  octopus,  and  carried  toward  the  wheels,  which 
awaited  their  victim. 

"For  God's  sake  shut  off  the  power!"  Richard  or- 
dered. 

Then  he  started  to  climb  up  the  frame. 

"You'll  be  killed,  sir!" 

One  of  the  workmen  tried  to  restrain  him. 

"Leave  me  alone !"  he  shouted.  "If  I  can  reach  him, 
I  can  hold  him  back  from  the  wheels." 

Rapidly  but  cautiously  picking  his  way,  Richard 
reached  a  point  where  he  could  seize  Tony's  foot,  and 
by  bracing  himself,  he  held  him  there  until  the  throb- 
bing of  the  machinery  became  less  and  less,  and  reluct- 
antly the  great  giant  relinquished  its  prey.     Lemholtz 

[341] 


THE    BALANCE 


was  lifted  none  too  gently  to  the  floor  by  his  former 
ghopmates,  who  relented  when  they  saw  his  condition. 
Then,  as  by  a  common  impulse,  the  men  turned  to  Rich- 
ard with  a  mighty  cheer. 

VII 

Richard's  thoughts  were  all  of  Olga.  When  he  re- 
turned, the  nurse  had  staunched  the  flow  of  blood,  but 
they  dared  not  move  her  until  the  doctor  arrived. 

"How  serious  is  it?"  he  demanded. 

"I  can't  tell,"  the  nurse  admitted.  "It  all  depends 
upon  what  the  knife  reached." 

"Suppose  you  take  a  look  at  that  man  there,  if  you 
can  be  spared  now." 

When  she  returned  a  few  moments  later,  Richard 
awaited  her  report. 

"Compound  fracture  in  both  arms,  sir.  He'll  be 
lucky  if  he  saves  either  one." 

Richard  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"I  had  better  have  left  him  to  his  fate." 


[342] 


CHAPTER     XXXVI 


OLGA  kept  her  appointment  with  Lola  and  Rich- 
ard, but  not  as  had  been  expected.  She  was 
tenderly  conveyed  to  the  Stewart  house  as  soon 
as  Dr.  Thurber  completed  his  examination  and  declared 
the  wound  not  mortal,  and  there  Lola  and  Richard 
watched  by  her  bedside  until  she  regained  consciousness. 
When  she  opened  her  eyes  that  same  accusing  smile 
which  penetrated  Richard's  heart  seemed  to  rest  upon 
her  lips. 

"Am  I  going  to  die?"  she  inquired  simply. 

"No,  dear,"  Lola  answered  her;  "you  are  going  to 
live  .  .  .  that  we  may  show  how  much  we  all  love  you." 

An  expression  of  disappointment  passed  over  Olga's 
face. 

"I  am  sorry,"  she  said  quietly.  "To  have  given  my 
life  for  Richard  would  have  made  it  worth  while  after 
all." 

"It  has  been  worth  while  in  more  ways  than  you  will 
ever  know,"  he  replied  with  much  feeling. 

Dr.  Thurber's  entrance  interrupted  their  conversa- 
tion. With  him  was  the  great  surgeon  Barry  had  been 
rushed  to  bring  from  the  metropolis  for  consultation. 

[343] 


THE    BALANCE 


The  doctor's  face  lighted  as  he  saw  the  patient's  con- 
dition. 

"Well,"  he  exclaimed  to  Olga  .  .  .  "here  we  all  are 
again!  The  last  time,  we  had  this  young  man  in  bed 
and  you  anxiously  watching  over  him ;  now  the  positions 
are  reversed!" 

"I  am  glad,"  she  said,  smiling  weakly.  "It  is  my  turn 
to  take  his  place." 

"She  is  much  brighter,  doctor,"  Mrs.  Stewart  said 
hopefully.     "That  is  a  good  sign,  isn't  it?" 

"Of  course,"  he  replied  encouragingly.  "Dr.  Lamson 
and  I  will  know  all  about  it  now  in  a  few  moments." 

The  moments  seemed  lengthened  into  hours  to  the 
Stewarts  and  Richard  who  waited  below  in  the  library 
for  the  surgeon's  report.  What  the  nurse  had  said 
made  them  anxious,  but  in  the  joy  of  again  hearing 
Olga's  voice  their  apprehensions  were  temporarily  for- 
gotten. When  steps  were  heard  descending  the  stairs 
every  eye  turned  toward  the  door  in  breathless  tension. 

It  was  a  moment  which  comes  daily  to  every  doctor, 
.  .  mercifully  with  sufficient  rarity  to  the  individual 
to  have  it  epoch-making.  Its  dramatic  value  is  no  less 
than  that  of  the  jury's  foreman  when  he  pronounces 
the  verdict  of  life  or  death,  freedom  or  a  life-long 
incarceration,  simply  because  it  is  rendered  in  the 
privacy  of  a  home  rather  than  in  the  glare  of  the  court- 
room. Dr.  Thurber  tried  to  mitigate  the  force  of  the 
announcement  by  an  attempt  to  smile,  but  the  surgeon, 
with  only  a  professional  duty  to  perform,  came  directly 
to  the  point. 

"She  will  never  walk  again,"  he  declared  bluntly, 
E344J 


THE    BALANCE 


"The  wound  has  produced  paralysis  from  the  hips  down. 

Without  further  comment  the  surgeon  turned  into 
the  hall,  and  Dr.  Thurber  saw  him  to  the  door. 

Barry,  standing  in  the  hallway,  with  his  hands  behind 
him,  had  an  expression  on  his  face  which  caused  Rich- 
ard to  reassure  him. 

"She  is  badly  injured,  Barry,  but  she  will  live." 

"I  sure  thank  the  good  Lord !"  was  the  heartfelt  re- 
sponse. 

Then  Barry  handed  Richard  a  magnificent  rose  from 
the  conservatory  which  he  had  kept  concealed. 

"Please  give  that  to  her  yourself,  Capt'n.  Tell  her 
it's  from  me,  and  ask  her  to  notice  particular  how 
beautiful  a  flower  is  when  its  petals  aren't*  bruised." 

Left  to  themselves  the  little  group  glanced  helplessly 
each  at  the  other,  tears  forcing  themselves  into  the 
eyes  of  all.    Richard  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"This  is  what  she  did  for  me !"  he  said  brokenly. 

"For  us,  dear,"  Lola  corrected,  with  equal  emotion. 
"This  makes  her  forever  a  part  of  our  lives." 

"Unselfishness,  sacrifice,  service,  love,  .  .  the  apothe- 
osis of  our  creed,"  he  added ;  "a  living  expression  of  all 
we  have  tried  to  put  into  words." 

II 

Richard  stepped  back  into  the  hall  to  meet  Dr.  Thur- 
ber as  he  returned  from  the  front  door. 

"How  much  do  you  care  to  tell  me  to  explain  this 
mystery?"  the  doctor  asked  abruptly. 

"What  mystery?" 

"The  interest  you  all  have  in  this  factory-girl.  First 
[345] 


THE    BALANCE 


I  find  her  with  you  in  a  flat  down  near  the  plant,  living 
as  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Richards.  Then  she  calls  me  to  the 
jail  on  your  account,  and  for  the  first  time  I  discover 
your  identity.  Now  I  find  her  accepted  in  this  house- 
hold as  a  member  of  the  family.  I  confess  that  my  hu- 
man curiosity  makes  me  guilty  of  transgressing  profes- 
sional etiquette." 

"Your  question  is  a  natural  one,"  Richard  admitted 
soberly ;  "and  there  are  others  who  are  entitled  to  hear 
my  answer.     Come  with  me." 

When  they  were  again  in  the  library,  Richard  took 
Lola's  hand  in  his,  and  repeated  the  doctor's  question. 
Stewart  showed  instant  resentment,  but  Richard's  lifted 
hand  caused  him  to  refrain  from  what  he  would  have 
said. 

"What  Dr.  Thurber  has  asked  requires  an  answer," 
Richard  declared.  "Lola  has  never  raised  the  question, 
and  never  would.  Unless  it  were  asked,  perhaps  I 
should  never  have  referred  to  it  myself,  but  it  is  better 
for  you  all  to  know  the  exact  facts.  Circumstances 
brought  this  wounded  girl  and  me  closely  together,  .  . 
more  closely  than  convention  would  permit.  She  found 
me  unconscious  upon  the  floor  of  my  chamber.  She 
summoned  the  doctor.  Fearful  lest  she  lose  the  oppor- 
tunity to  nurse  me,  she  let  him  think  that  we  were  man 
and  wife.  In  France,  during  the  war,  nothing  was 
thought  of  such  companionship ;  at  home,  in  peace,  such 
a  relation  can  have  but  one  interpretation,  .  .  such  is 
the  degree  of  perfection  civilization  has  attained  be- 
yond the  barbarism  of  war!  If  Dr.  Thurber's  ques- 
tion involved  me  alone,  I  would  tell  him  to  think  what 

[346] 


THE    BALANCE 


he  likes  and  be  damned;  for  the  only  one  concerned 
knows  the  answer  before  it  is  given.  Since  it  affects 
the  honor  of  that  wonderful  little  girl  upstairs,  I  will 
tell  him  that  there  are  men  and  women  in  the  world  who 
are  able  to  rise  above  the  physical,  to  whom  conventions 
represent  limitations,  and  who  have  creeds  and  ideals 
of  their  own  which  to  them  are  more  sacred  than  the 
platitudinous  hypocrisies  amongst  which  they  live." 

"I  apologize,  .  .  I'm  sure,"  Dr.  Thurber  stammered ; 
"I  only  asked  .  .  ." 

"You  only  asked  what  the  world  would  ask,"  Richard 
interrupted;  "you  are  merely  its  mouthpiece,  and  my 
answer  is  not  to  you  personally,  but  to  the  world.  I 
had  hoped  that  one  of  the  great  results  of  this  war  would 
be  the  emancipation  of  the  sexes.  Over  there,  men  and 
women  served  and  lived  as  friends,  as  pals,  as  comrades, 
and  they  learned  the  happiness  which  comes  from  this 
natural  companionship.  Here  it  is  tabooed.  Men  must 
herd  with  men  and  women  with  women.  For  a  man  to  be 
intimate  with  a  woman  labels  her  as  his  wife  or  brands 
her  as  his  mistress.  I'll  admit  that  I  can't  force  the 
world  to  my  viewpoint,  but  I'm  not  sorry  to  have  proved 
to  myself  that  the  relation  which  the  good  Lord  in- 
tended to  have  exist  between  men  and  women  is  not 
impossible  in  practice.  The  present  incident  is  closed. 
One  of  the  chief  joys  to  which  Lola  and  I  look  forward 
in  our  married  life  is  the  companionship  of  this  won- 
derful woman,  no  longer  a  factory -girl,  no  longer,  thank 
God !  subject  to  the  slanderous  tongues  of  busy-bodies, 
but  an  integral  part  of  our  lives,  which  her  presence 
will  make  richer  and  more  beautiful." 

[347] 


THE    BALANCE 


"I  am  glad  I  asked  the  question,"  Dr.  Thurber  de- 
clared frankly,  "for  otherwise  I  should  not  have  had 
your  answer.  One  of  the  compensations  of  a  profes- 
sional man's  life  is  that  he  comes  face  to  face  with  men 
and  women  who,  under  stress  of  feeling,  disclose  their 
real  human  selves.  My  question  was  brutal,  but  the 
genuine  admiration  I  feel  for  my  patient,  whom  I  have 
seen  under  curiously  varied  circumstances,  impelled  me 
to  seek  an  explanation.  You  have  given  it  to  me,  and 
I  thank  you  for  it." 

"It  is  a  different  world  we  are  living  in  today  from 
that  in  which  you  and  I  were  brought  up,"  Mrs.  Stew- 
art remarked,  as  the  situation  was  improved  by  the 
doctor's  response.  "It  has  taken  me  a  long  time  to 
get  used  to  it,  but  somehow  I  am  inclined  to  think  the 
change  a  healthy  one,  after  all." 

"Why  shouldn't  the  final  education  of  parents  rest  in 
the  hands  of  their  children?"  Stewart  demanded,  try- 
ing to  relieve  the  tension.  "After  inflicting  ourselves 
on  them  for  a  generation,  why  shouldn't  they  have  a 
chance  to  retaliate?  It  certainly  comes  under  the  head 
of  poetic  justice." 

"Or  retribution,"  Lola  laughed,  delighted  to  have  the 
conversation  take  a  lighter  turn. 

"Well,"  Dr.  Thurber  exclaimed,  "if  I  am  forgiven 
I  will  return  to  my  patient." 

"Does  she  know  .  .  .  what  we  know?"  Lola  inquired 
anxiously. 

The  doctor  shook  his  head. 

"It  would  not  be  safe,"  he  explained.  "She  has  al- 
ways seemed  the  embodiment  of  action,  and  now  ,   .  , " 

[348] 


THE    BALANCE 


"Tell  her  that  she  shall  be  our  daughter  ...  to 
live  with  us  always,  for  Lola  will  soon  be  flying  the  old 
nest,"  Mrs.  Stewart  said  feelingly,  and  her  husband 
silently  nodded  his  approval. 

"You  always  think  of  the  right  thing,  dear,"  Lola 
cried,  embracing  her  mother  affectionately.  Then  she 
turned  to  the  doctor. 

"You  don't  realize  the  fearlessness  of  her  spirit,"  she 
added.  "She  would  far  rather  know  the  truth,  and  she 
will  meet  it  unflinchingly." 

"At  the  right  time,  but  that  won't  make  it  any  easier 
for  me.  I  shot  a  doe  once,  up  in  the  Maine  woods.  She 
accepted  her  fate,  but  her  eyes  haunt  me  still  .  .  .  You 
all  may  follow  me,  say  in  five  minutes,  but  you  must 
only  stay  with  her  for  a  moment." 

Ill 

In  due  time,  obedient  to  instructions,  the  family  fol- 
lowed him  to  the  sick  chamber.  The  doctor's  face  ex- 
pressed an  overpowering  sympathy,  but  on  Olga's  fea- 
tures rested  a  new  light,  startling  to  those  who  had  be- 
fore associated  it  only  with  that  exhaltation  which  so 
frequently  precedes  death.  Lola  and  Richard  went  di- 
rectly to  the  bedside,  while  the  others  drew  back,  realiz- 
ing that  this  moment  was  not  theirs. 

"The  doctor  has  told  you  .  .  ."  Richard  asked  halt- 
ingly. 

"Not  what  I  most  wished  to  hear,"  she  answered. 

"And  that  is  .  .  ."  Lola  interrogated. 

Olga  held  out  both  hands,  one  to  each,  and  with 
theirs  tightly  grasped  within  her  own  she  looked  from 

[349] 


THE    BALANCE 


one  to  the  other  with  a  smile  so  tender  that  Richard  no 
longer  felt  its  accusation.    She  put  her  question  to  Lola. 

"Will  you  marry  my  Richard  now  .  .  .  very  soon?" 

"Let  us  speak  of  you,  dear,"  Lola  protested ;  but  the 
girl  did  not  heed  her. 

"Will  you  marry  my  Miss  Lola  now  .  .  .  very 
soon?"  she  demanded  of  Richard. 

"Lola  is  right,"  he  declared,  .  .  "it  is  you  of  whom 
we  are  thinking  now,  not  of  ourselves." 

"You  will  be  thinking  of  me  if  you  do  as  I  ask.  It  is 
the  only  thing  which  will  make  me  happy." 

"The  doctor  has  told  you  of  our  plans  for  you?" 
Lola  asked. 

"Yes;  is  it  all  true?  Is  it  possible  that  I  can  still 
be  a  part  of  your  lives  and  that  I  shall  not  be  a  burden 
to  you?" 

"Oh,  Olga,"  Lola  cried,  "except  for  that  there  can 
be  no  joy  for  any  of  us." 

The  invalid  closed  her  eyes  for  a  moment,  as  if  the 
light  was  too  brilliant  for  their  strength.  When  she 
opened  them  a  new  expression  possessed  her,  .  .  a  re- 
turn of  the  old  roguish  animation. 

"You  have  had  to  take  us  both  after  all!"  she  said 
shyly  to  Richard. 

"Am  I  not  a  lucky  man?" 

Then  she  turned  to  Lola. 

"May  I  kiss  our  Richard?" 

As  he  bent  over  her  she  became  serious  again.  The 
great  brown  eyes  looked  full  into  his  as  if  to  convey  a 
message  of  unusual  import,  but  the  words  she  spoke 
were  for  the  others. 

[350] 


THE    BALANCE 


"A  kiss  is  wine  sipped  by  two  friends  from  the  same 
glass  .  .  ." 

Olga  motioned  Lola  to  approach  nearer  the  bed,  and 
placing  her  hand  with  Richard's,  joined  them  together 
in  her  own. 

"But  love  is  the  crucible  which  remains  forever  after 
the  wine  is  gone!" 


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UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


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